What took you so long'
by Days That Never End
Summary: Lucifer's a little too late. Constantine is a lttle too resigned. Disclaimer:I own nothing.
1. Chapter 1

'What took you so long?' John raised his head and tilted it against the splintered door, resting it as he focused his traitorous eyes on the man in the white suit .Figures. White. Angels and their damn hypocrisy. All pristine and holy-than-thou shit when they clung to the threads their own bigotry. Meddling with humanity -damn them to hell. John doggedly blinked against the numbness that spread through his body and clogged his brain, his thoughts slowly eroding against his lungs insistent demand-urging him to breathe harder and faster.

'Hello John. John ,hello' John couldn't muster the revulsion and loathing that _that_ greeting warranted, not when his flesh weighed heavily against his own bones, cold and uninhibited like a carcass on a spike. Was barely aware of the- _hiiissssss- _that steadily squelched in betweenfootsteps_. _The stench of rot and fester that accompanied it that filled his nostrils, ripping the crisp nightmares of his youth to the forefront of his mind. Of the fire, the scalding heat of the cold, and the screaming-just the screaming- echoing- the pain throbbing as it stabbed at his eyes.

'You're the one soul I would come here to collect myself. Mmhhhm' John opened his eyes resolutely, gazing up at the man who had by now situated himself on a chair. The chair, John noted, that he had wiped the sole of his shoes when he had deported those half-breeds. Immaterially, he wondered if his footprints would gratifyingly imprint upon the devil's pristine white suit when he was dragged back to hell. Hell. The final mark of John Constantine .His throat clench at the thought, his teeth grit as bitterness and anger threatened to smother him. The memories whispered the stark memoires that fuelled so much of his determination and fear in his life. John drew a shuddering breathe, shoving the self-pity from his thoughts. So the old man himself came to collect him, he imagined worse. The man was giddy as a child, clapping his hands in mockery, or was it actual happiness.

'So I've heard' Swallowing the evidence of his damnation, however was just that more final and eternal and so goddamn unfair. And God, he needed a cigarette. His fingers fumbled for his lighter 'You mind' through both knew , Lucifer and he, that Constantine would do as he damn well smoke if he pleased. Yes, there-the brief pause in which lips narrowed and sparked in red demonic eyes, before the easy juvenile smile wiped his wrinkles into a into the lazy ease in which he excluded. Worth it, through he may come to regret it. Lucifer's following consent meant little to him, they both knew.

'Coffin nail,' he murmured clarification, slightly scornfully in a fuck you to hell distain, the significance was not lost on Lucifer. A subtle reminder that it was he that chose this-the time and place, not the surge of unholy minions or that accursed cancer poisoning his lung cells. He was in control, at least while he was on this plane-

'Very fitting, John' alight frown lilted his brow before he straightened his blazer and smirked. The irony acknowleged that either way, sooner or later, Lu was getting his soul and probably his body to boot. The cigarette was a symbol of that, and all that was wrong and messed up in John's life. But he was damned if he didn't breathe one sweet mouthful of nicotine smoke before the brimstone and hellfire. Already his fingers was shaking as he withdrew his lighter and flicked it open-

'You know when you cut to deep, you cut the tendon...finger movement goes out the window.' God, he was gloating-the lighter laid between his legs like a errant puppy. Begging to lit and pleading to be held. John clenched his teeth, the taste of raw cigarette quelling but not satisfying. 'Let me help you' The man was close, too close as he leaned over Constantine in fable concern. This close John could see the dark tattoos that ran upon waxen skin across his neck and fingers, the dark sister gleam in those red eyes. His hot breath in controversy was not unpleasant, through the stained teeth was mildly upsetting, especially when he grinned. The cigarette lighter held firmly within his thick fingers, John glared at the lighter-traitor, but the need for the slacken pull of smoke was strong. The resulting mouse chase was expected through it did still irk him. He inhaled and finally, through this whole mess and blood, he could think. The roll of smoke and twang upon his tongue as he blew smoke , albeit awkwardly at the devil. 'See' Lucifer flicked the lighter wickedly, John flinched instinctively- merely human instinct. 'Sonny, I've got a whole theme park full of red delights for you' John concentrated on inhaling just that little bit more.

'Well, aren't you a peach' Never a doubt Midnite, got his finger in every pie-John grimaced.

'I didn't think you would make the same mistake twice' Yeah, well neither did he, John met his eyes blowing smoke smoothly in reminisce of his better days. Lucifer's ruby eyes, narrowed suspiciously at the fallen man, his tone cleared from the light playful tone 'And you didn't...' to a low growl. '...did you'. John was unsurprised .They were surrounded in a unambiguous grave of half-demons, bullet shells that lay silent in evidence and the odour of holy water would surely have alerted Lu if not repugnant him that no-Constantine had not just give up. Because frankly, why the hell would he deported those insignificant scum if not to promote him. And he, John Constantine, sincerely would have walked out, never even turned back to the screams left in his wake. He wasn't a saint and he never claimed to be.

'So how's the family' how mundane, John drew more poison and closed his eyes.

'Family's doing just fine. Busy, busy, busy. Need a vacation' Lucifer grunted, flexing his neck in cruel recollection. Probably one damn long holiday for the tyrant, John grimaced and concentrated on his words. There was nothing that was stopping him from speeding up his death, even if he was restricted from directly interfering. His soul was damned from all those years ago, belonged to the devil -a little leeway of speech was all John got.

'Word is that kid is a chip of the old block' John exhaled, let him figure out which kid he fathered.

'Well, one does what one can' a void expression. Lucifer obviously did not care, cared even less than John. Obvious that he wasn't even aware of the defiant streak that was documented in the Black's Bible, or the fact-

'He's in the other room' John stated, hampered the urge to kick the devil's chair as the Lucifer rubbed his coal stained feet upon his tailor fitted suit teasingly. 'With Gabriel' That caught the other curiosity, through only briefly- 'They have the spear of destiny' John clarified, vaguely amused that the King of Hell's ignorance. So much for omnipotent and omniscient-or was that God? Who knew with these deities. Lucifer paused, his eyes darkened as he focused on the dying man in contemplation, weighing and shifting the words in his mind. A tongue flickered and tasted the words-

'They have the spear of destiny' he mimicked derisively, sniggering. And John could see the effect, the knowledge of the possibility flickering in his eyes but also the doubt. The inerrant distrust, that John would have smirked if the situation of him dying was not so evident. If ever a dead man told a lie, it would be John Constantine, a sinner to the end.

'Or is it another of your cons' Lucifer hissed, his ire inflamed in his breathe. His sudden presence compressing as all humour dissipated from his face. John gazed up and focused on the other, itching for another drag. The strain was cutting all sensations and he could feel the lack of weight upon his consciousness- telling him that he was definitely dying. He knew. And damn them for resting the fate of humanity upon his shoulders. He was happy just killing the occasional half-demon and vampire for his redemption, nothing about saving the whole useless flock. Chas was dead. Hennessy. Beeman. Angelica was probably dying by now, the human body was never designed to recover from such a taint as the devil's son. He hadn't killed Balthazar. That- that was- John was resigned.

'Go look for yourself.' he challenged Lucifer; red eyes glinted as he further studied John. There was an admittedly undercurrent of hope that lilted his tone, that Lucifer would tear the wings of that angel Gabriel-or whatever the hell those freaking angels did. Which doubtless confused Lucifer, John lifted his head from its resting place 'You waited 20 yrs for me, what's another 20 seconds?' And that was pride in John's voice. Something that Lucifer did not appreciate- foolish really. The growl that tore from Lucifer's throat was gravelly and predator and John definitely flinched as his head smacked painfully at the wall .Unable to move but to tilt his head as far away as his neck would allow, away from the other. The tense vibration made his heart pump faster making him more light headed with the blood loss. The moist touch on his neck made him cringe and he farrowed his eyebrow. That was it.

The sound of glass shatter and the abrupt absence of heat opened his eyes. Well, that was it then. The clear relief shocked him for a moment, he hadn't known that he cared that much. He drew another smock filled breathe slowly. His eyes had hazed to the extent where he couldn't see his shoes, just the undistinguished shape that led surely from his knees. And damn, he wished his watch hadn't stopped- 20 seconds suddenly felt so much faster in pause motion.

The crack of fallen glass beside him woke him and he blinked the traitorous sleep from his eyes. 'What do you want' John blinked at the devil. The white fuzzy indistinguishable from the creeping darkness . What did he want? Oh yes- he should have remembered that demons only deal in contracts. Well, his life would be swell. But John didn't think that the devil would deal his freedom '-Extension' the devil quipped expectantly, breaking his submerging consciousness. John's head tilted in aggravation-so he would end up in the exact position in 10 years time without his redemption. And damnation and hell did the devil know it. Isabella through, she didn't deserve that, she deserved what he could never earn-

'You know you're going to be working hard with my boy walking around. Chip of the old block indeed' Lucifer grinned as John head jerked in shock. No. The knowing grin grew gleeful -Why that sonofabitch.-

He- he dead- cut his wrists. Committed the whole damn suicide fiasco -so that the devil could arrive fashionably late. Damned humanity with a sprinkle of sugar?-and Angelica, she was unequivocally dead then. Chas. God, he could wished he could deport the devil to hell. His finger twitched in an unloaded gun.

'Naa-ah-ah.' Lucifer tutted, as John's vision took in the white figure kneeling over him. And fury filled demonic eyes. The cigarette fell from his numb lips- well shit, there goes his cigarette. John's head rolled back as he tried to distance himself from the heated wrath. Cold fingers gripped and steadied his chin, stroking his neck 'Breathe for me John' John's lungs expanded greedily as he gulped in air that he hadn't even known was depraved from him. 'Now you see my problem. Family's a hassle. Got to wrap this up now, John. You want to die here or later.' John sneered, would a fuck you suffice. He was done-done to the bone. Midnite was right, time to hand over the reins. His time was finished the moment he learnt that he had terminal cancer in the hospital , before he had met Angelica. Before this whole case ended with people that he knew, people that had helped him–dead.

'Chas Karmer.' He snarled, through his voice was almost empty of sound 'The boy, give him to me' Lucifer grin widened impossibly, a heated spark of what-approval?

'Mmhmm. I didn't think you one to play with toys John. Don't think you would have time to play, with all the gory delights I've got planned. You know, if you want something pretty to taunt, there are fresher boys that scream so wonderfully for you. Hmmhmmm. Yes they would.' Lucifer nodded to himself as he slanted John head, such that his neck was exposed. 'So much more filling to the soul, right John' watching as his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

John teeth gritted 'No' his hands laid uselessly limp beside him, longing to shove the other bodily away. 'No. No I want you to bring him back' John fading eyes hardened it's sight on red circled irisis '-here. On earth. Where he belongs.' His chin was unexpectedly dropped and it sagged on his chest, a groan escaped him as his vision swayed. Lucifer snorted-

'You think that boy could succeed you? John, no.'

'Bring him back , Lu.' John rasped 'And you'll get my soul' there was a sound of shifting of weight. Something wet, cold was smudged across his face. Finger squeezed him cheeks painfully upright.

' Oh John. Do you know how long-' eyelids were hooded drunk on yearning, desire at the sight of blood on John's check, his mouth slack as tongue darted to run across his teeth with a hiss. John eyes blinked rather dumbly-

'I 'll scream for you, Lu-'

'No!' Lucifer bit, fingers tightened across his tie .His voice startlingly softened 'I want to break you gently, John. Slowly, sweetly, savouringly ' John could only nod in assent. Let him try.

'Then do it Lu, or forfeit my soul' the incredulity of his statement made Lucifer straighten for a second before the grin manifested on his face.

'John ,John ,John' he mocked 'Do know who you're talking to?' John could only blink once again, his lungs were all that kept him from dying at that second; his heart had slowed to the occasional beat of that of a coma. 'I'm flattered really. Yet 'The lord giveth and the lord taketh away.'' Lucifer paused , his eyes flickering to the ceiling 'Do I look like Jesus to you?'

No. No. This could not be God sake- had he no pity? Constantine could only stop the scream of frustration at the injustice.

'See. I'm gonna spread it clear for you John' Lucifer situated himself more comfortably on the floor 'Now, I can't do much on this plane. Neutrality and the wager an all.' John snorted , Gabriel didn't have such issues- 'Aaahh-but you don't see God around do you. Angels, Demons- not as honourable or restricted.' Lucifer shook his head in lament 'Subordinates' he sighed. 'What me and the Big One don't know- won't hurt the wager would it?' the gleeful undertone was evident even to John befuddled mind. ' And since you simply not listening to reason here, trying to go all martyr on poor me, I'll give you a clear cut deal.' Lucifer picked the discarded smoke packet and drew a cigarette. 'I'll give you 500 yrs, John.' He placed the terminal cigarette between John's lips and lit it with a flick of finger. 'I'll give you 500 yrs of immortality,' Lucifer stroked his greased slinked hair 'If you bring me my son' The cigarette smoke caressed his skin in grey ash. The devil sniggered at the dazed perplexed look that must have crossed his face. 'What? You think blood would mean more than my fun' Lucifer's grin calmed to smirk. Actually, John was wondering why he couldn't just let it be. More chaos, more death and destruction merely meant more shipping's to hell. It wasn't as if God was willing to interfere 'So do we have a deal? Sonny' John eyes flickered to door where Angelica doubtless laid. If only he had been faster, if only he hadn't hesitated- damned if he did, damned if he didn't. Some choice.

John nodded with the last of his strength. 'Very good John,' Lucifer dragged his fingers across the pools of blood. 'But as you are, you're not much use to me' Harsh fingers gripped his hair and tugged it up, John groaned in pain, helpless to do anything but endure. A frown funnelled his brow as his neck strained against the exerted force.'You need-' the acidic liquid taste of iron ,hot fire, moist, chilling and thick, spiralling his already shaky grasp into a drugged trance '-a little boost' It swept through his throat and soothed it, drowned sensation back into his limbs. It tasted divine, it tasted like- oh god, it was blood- John jerked as he snapped his jaw shut with the new strength. 'Now John, be reasonable' the man scolded, prying his mouth open with ease. John whimpered, he had not agreed to this, he had not- But it felt so good, so empowering and soothing. Like liquid gold and fire. An unconscious hand snaked to grip the flesh, dark eye lashes flickering- Lucifer sighed, the grip in his hair had softened and unknowingly cradled the human's head as he studied the ashen complexion richen upon tainted angel blood. He had always been Lucifer's favourite, but now, he was so much more. Special. 'There, there' he murmured with a mocking lisp as John practically sobbed as he drank greedily in large draining gulps.

Gradually he withdrew his wrist, but not before drawing an endearing snarl from the boy. Lucifer grinned in satisfaction, the healthy sheen upon the glowering man's face as he snarled like a new born demon. Already he could see the effect of his blood, steming the flow of John's blood and pulsing within his limbs- through they quivered with the influence. 'Good boy,' he crooned, as he smoothed a sweat slick lock. The man shuddered with rage, Lucifer gleefully noted the glint of red that sparked in dark eyes. It was cruel, yes. John could barely live with himself, let alone the perverse knowledge of what ran through his veins.

'What did you do' John voice practically rose in fury with utter rage. His hand pressed with trembles as he rose shakily to his knees.

'John , the contract.' Lucifer shook his head in mocking displeasure.

'Bullshit. All you needed to exchange blood- you didn't- you could have-' Constantine's voice cracked, or was the fledgling chocking on his blood?

'Couldn't, shouldn't, but did. Or have you made a deal with the devil before' Lucifer purred

'Why-'

Why? Why indeed. Lucifer had been initially intrigued when a warrior of God had fallen to hell- barely 20 yrs ago. Suicide, the great stress killer. He wasn't gonna lie-John's soul was captivatingly, innocent with grief and torment, young and resigned -an enjoyable pass time. But what had Lucifer fingers twitching and teeth baring, was that the enigma, Constantine, had been practical abducted and flung back into the living. God had bent the conventions of death. Which was acceptable, it was only one soul- But nothing tasted sweeter than a fruit denied. The knowledge that Constantine had been destined for heaven only sweetened it- yet rules were rules. Suicides go to hell and angels fell. No doubt, in the end he would have eventually ascended to heaven [ if he had endured hell intact] – not that Constantine knew. But now, with his tainted blood thrumming through John's veins, surely he would be eternally bared from heaven. Surely, he could keep this one child of Eve-

'Because you human, John' and God did he love smirching their innocence 'Do you think that you could challenge my son as a human. Tut, tut John. Your clearly have a concussion' Lucifer stepped back and straightened his blazer 'Or are you still seeking redemption.' He questioned with a scorn. Even now, with the evident blemish upon his soul-innocent. Lucifer could not help but sight the pure white that had fallen into his domain. It was there as John's light fractured with each broken hope, a tight ball that coiled itself deep within his core.

Lucifer snorted at the revelation of John's sagged head, his face spanned a giddy grin at the utter despair on John's face, he let out a little giggle. Oh, this was fragile, still fighting, still willing to hope and to preservera. Still God's unwilling little warrior. 'You're thrice damned,' Lucifer stated with a pinch of gloat 'Made a deal with the devil, son. Oh, and two successful suicides. Not much needed after that. You're going to hell either way, the die roll now – is whether it's sooner rather than later. Harsh or tender. The jailer or the jailbird. It's your call ,a deadline of 500 yrs and the perks of sin ' Lucifer straightened his cuffs 'Not that you haven't indulged' He noted ,as he ran a sharp eye of the darker head man. John eyes were focused on the floor, fixed upon the pool of blood that had inevitably joined -Lucifer chuckled. He did enjoy John's defiance-it made him- worthwhile. 'Well, I must ran. Oh, and-'Lucifer flinted closer, leaning oppressively in what must strained the other's bones, and breathed 'welcome to the family' thriving on the instinctive jerk. Luifer bid himself homeward, he was going to enjoy the next half a century.

* * *

><p>'John! John!' a hand cupped his cheek as the other raised his head. He felt heavy, cold. John's head lolled for a brief moment and he was distinctly aware of his body being heaved upright, before it was rested upon damp warmth of another body. 'John! John, come on man' the hand that was patting his cheek had become more frantic, forceful in its alarm. The worrying tremor in the distinctively young voice made John's fingers twitch in recognition. It triggered sentiment, of nostalgic and perhaps slight irritation. 'John! John?...John!' The blows were undeniably bruising no- Chas. John placed the name distinctly within his murky mind, he drew in a sharp breath ...then exhaled steadily. Tasting it, breathing it, feeling it fill his lungs as he drew a slower more profound breathe with relish. 'John!' The sharp clarity of brown curled locks and anxious chocolate eyes peered down at him as blinked 'Oh man, you were like- you weren't breathing, for 10 minutes. I thought- I thought-' John groaned as he heaved himself upright with a grimace, ignoring the hesitant attempts to sustain him. His limbs quivered but not with pain or exertion, but from a force, an electrical adrenaline was pulsing through his body. John flexed the muscles in his back, skilfully overlooking the tight grip upon his shoulder as he sceptically examined his hands. The vertical cuts upon his wrists had disappeared unblemished. John brow creased and deepened when he realised that he now resided in moisture of his own blood. Disgust pulled his mouth as he flicked his hands of the excess blood and crooked a knee. The amount alone should have killed him, it clung to the skin of his clothes like the stench of iron, heavily and potent. Ozzing into his shoes, he hafted himself to his feet-<p>

'You all right, John? John! Don't ignore me John' Constantine shifted his trench coat awkwardly, his toes squelching his shoes.

'500 dollar suit' he scowled in a murmur, the blood in his shirt alone would be impossible to remove. John's eyes flickered to Chas beside him. The boy was tense, hovering close with an expression upon his young face that John placed as want of reassurance. John stifled a sigh, that-that was why he hadn't introduced the kid sooner to the game. He just couldn't grasp the psychological mentality necessary to make him an asshole. Even partially. The reek of naivety and virtue made corrupting him a bigger hassle than John was willing to go. How the hell was the kid supposed to live his daily life, as an exorcist if he could not distance himself from the victims? It was death after death. Causalities, regrets, collateral damage –were a necessary part of the package. Some you knew, others you didn't-

John's instantly stiffened, his mouth dried as he twisted bodily towards his apprentice. His hands roughly threading through brown tangled hair, in search for damage or a dent. 'Whoa-woa-wha' Hands gripped his arms trying to untwine his grasp, as Chas mortified tried to still his questing hands. 'John! I'm alright. I'm alright John' John released one hand and gripped the other forearm, dark eyes flickered the over other's face to his body than up- glaring in intensity.

'You died' John affirmed, his chin unconsciously dipped as he shoved the other a feet away. A frown drawing his eyebrows.

'I didn't- I'm not dead,' Chas splattered his cheeks reddened, then a sheepish look crossed his face 'I just- I just thought I was' he shovelled on his feet awkwardly, 'You know-dying 'his eyes fluttered refusing to meet the elder's, his fingers tugged at the wet clothes.

'You thought you were dying?' John reiterated. The image of Chas body being flung brutally away, flickered in his mind, the relentless force shattering Chas's bones at each impact upon the solid wall. And the sickening twist in his stomach as he watched immobilized, loathingly aware that he was unable to stop it. Unable to force it to stop. Limited in his humanity and petty insignificance. The hauntingly vivid sight of dawning understanding in broken eyes as they splattered with fading light and the crushing guilt that floored him until he smothered it into apathy. Gabriel. John teeth clenched as eyes roved against the damp drenched kid, his uncapped mess of hair frizzing slightly-and couldn't stop the instinctive trickle of relief.

'You and me both' he murmured, he took a determined step as he blinked the image of pale clammy skin and the bloodied nose.

'Hey, your the one lying in blood. I thought you were dying' Chas defended, his lips pressed with agitation 'John? John!' -and the kid was back to reiterating his name. John moved rigidly in his tacky clothes as he walked progressively towards the pool. The rising sun cast an orange tinge of light through shattered windows and John briefly considered the notion of blaming the resident patients, but dismissed it. It would take one messed up patient to sprinkle demon dust within aligned clothes. John halted at the sight and heaved, withdrew a battered packet and flicked his cigarette lighter. He needed a smoke. The boy had finally paused to take breathe and peered over John's shoulder.

'Is she-is she dead?' the disbelief and denial was clear in his question. Still naive.

'Her intestines are discernible and ribs are cracked open. I think she might survive.' John muttered, he drew a long drawing breath and exhaled slowly. His head titled as he examined the body at the corner of his eye. Well- fuck. He couldn't even give her a private funeral given that she was a cop. Forensics would be all over the place, at least three blood samples and two dead bodies. Not to mention the damage cost if they pinned it on him. John strode closer and dropped to one knee, brushing the strands of hair and finally closed her eyes with a sigh. So much for faith in God- two devout sisters. One in hell and the other ripped open alive. By now, he knew that God was not going to lift a finger. Not for her and defiantly not for him-no wonder why people turned to the devil. Some reaction was better than no reaction.

John glanced over his shoulder in firm decision 'Grab her feet' he muttered. His arms already hooked under her armpits, cigarette dangling between his lips, her head resting against the crock of his neck-

'Jo-John. I don't think we're supposed to move the body.' John head lifted to meet hesitant brown eye, his eyebrows drawn in caution as he stepped apprehensively closer.

'Chas. You want to learn something? This is your chance' John heaved himself to his feet and as expected, Chas was ineptly balancing with the added weight. With a jerky nod that belied the younger's anxiety, Constantine patiently walked to the exit with a carcass and a stumbling apprentice at hand.

* * *

><p>Hey-hope this does not offend Angelica fans. Please point out any mistakes-thanx<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

John dropped to the bed and studied his cigarette with a critical eye. His bare skin kissed the cold air with steam and trailing water drops that wet the bedcovers. The towel pooled around his waist was well worn and scratchy but he had little else to wear. He snagged a quick puff and leaned forward as he blew it into smoky shadow. It had been a trying day. The shower had eased his tense muscles and wiped the evidence of blood. But nevertheless – a very trying day. A snore that erupted from the next room and the sound of shifting of cloth- John pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes and blinked-that was evidence that it was a trying day. He hadn't the motivation to stop the kid from following him that evening; through he had tried to slam the front door on the kid's foot. But that was instinctive-drilled in by routine. And by the time he stepped out the shower, the kid had fallen asleep on his couch, Constantine snorted, at least he had the preservation not try his bed. Yet, the fact that John was not kicking that skinny ass out the curb, was confirmation enough that John impressed by the kid's performance. John hefted himself to his feet and padded to the kitchen are where he deftly drew a bottle of vodka. Taking a swipe that made his head spin a little, he proceeded to stroll into the living area and leaned his forehead against the cool window.

He had called in two favours and a debt. His eyes flickered to the evening sun as he gazed out at the city that was Los Angeles. The first was to burn the asylums activity centre down; half-demons had social security numbers-so killing them was still considered a crime. Not, as in Constantine's opinion, justice. He tilted the bottle to a sip and added smoke in his mouth. The next was burying Angelica in holy ground, which surprisingly had involved the least threats and bargaining. John snorted, then again, priests were known to be cowards and with a gun in one's face it did make one more agreeable. Hennessy and Angelica were laid side by side, in an anonymous grave under the church's shadow. He and Chas were the only grievers as the Hennessy box was, levered down to rest. So that had been intimidation rather than a favour, John conceded, but necessary. He breathed the smoky aroma into the window and stumbled back as it stung his eyes. It gave them a fighting chance to heaven, less likely that someone would mess around with their carcasses. The back of knee's hit the couch and he fell with a 'oof'. The grunt beneath him jolted him and gazed blearily at the bundle of clothes as he gulped another mouthful. Of course the boy had been agitated, he recalled, at having a dead body in his boot. And when Constantine had initially pitched the plan, Chas had dropped Angelica in shock and horror, before protesting loudly in grating voice. It had taken a lot persuasion and false promises to get the teenager to open the damn boot, hence the debt on his part. He hadn't considered the fact of free rides as a favour, merely Chas being duped. Now, he shoved the lanky legs from under him, he considered it as part of the apprenticeship fee.

'John?' a bleary voice questioned, John took a larger swing from the bottle. He did not want to deal with the questions. The body pulled itself up and extracted the limbs from under him, John groaned in approval as his back moulded to the back of the sofa.

'John. Are you naked?' John glanced down dubiously- nope- towel still intact. Well, covering the necessary parts.

'Why are you in my flat?' he questioned, his voice was roughed as gravel and he narrowed his sharp eyes at the other.

'Alright, John. Just thought that public decency sake would-' John gulped another mouthful then pulled another draught. The boy beside his fidgeted beside him, then tucked his knees under his chin and wrapped his arms around his body. A reminiscent of what John had once done when he was younger. John sighed a lungful of smoke, his head a pleasant buzz- Alright, but he was not going to get the kid drunk. Anyway, John did not share vodka. He needed it.

'You got something you want to say?'Chas shook his head, his lips pursed and leaned his head on his arm. Clearly he did, John noted. But John, in his current state, just could not deviate it. He was not a fool and nor was he unobservant drinker, he knew something had shattered in the boy. It was actually the thing that John had silently acknowledged to have prevented from breaking-with the knowledge that he would eventually been forced to do it himself- he just could not at that moment figure out what triggered it. John frowned at the present predicament. So, he did what that drunk tramp did for him all those years ago. He talked, and he pointed out all the ways in which his life was clearly more fucked up and told him to lick it up -or just lie down and die.

'Have you ever been to hell?' John demanded, he sucked his dwindling cigarette and flicked the ashes onto the floor. Chas visibly started, his eyes opened impossible wide and lips gaped before he could recollected himself and quietly shook his head. Constantine turned away, he could still detect the guileless trust and youth in Chas's eyes and he couldn't quite decide if he was pleased or frustrated by it. John tipped the bottle back into his mouth, his eyes screwed as he felt it hit his bloodstream 'It 's not pretty...guaranteed to leave you with nightmares for years. I'll have to introduce you, give you a guide tour' He smirked at the disbelieve on Chas's face and the slight scepticism of John's pledge. Tough, the kid had 2 years to back out and come to his senses- now there would be no turning back. That demon would have circulated the kid's involvement in hell by now. And the notion of losing free labour was not appealing. 'You may not have the sight, but there are herbs-strong ones that would get you in and out and lot a hell lot safer than what I do.' John half-choked, half coughed as he blindly swallowed the drink, drowning the memories before they could resurface. Chas mumbled something, but John didn't concentrate on the words, just the gist of the tone. 'Demons aren't painted dolls either-you don't get the benefit of their visage on that plane. Hell, the half-breeds are enough to turn your stomach. It would be best just to puke and get it over with for the first time. It ain't anything like the picture books' John paused in compilation ,'The Demon foot soldier are plausible, they don't get creative much. But, God can they bite.' Where the hell had that trash tray got to, John pressed the butt of his cigarette upon the couch, lacking the necessary drive to search. His grip on the bottle tightened '- and certainly not something to look forward to in eternity-' he commented. Chas voice squeaked and John looked humorously at the dread that betrayed young lines. The laugh that erupted from his throat was full and astonishingly light 'Not you kid.' He chuckled 'If I saw you in hell, then that's prove that God's gone and dead' Chas mouth gaped in shock, his eyes blinked in incomprehension-

'There is a God, John. And he has not abandoned you' the laughter died just as quickly upon John's lips. His voice nauseatingly earnest but firm and John could only feel the liquid had burned his throat with bitterness of life. Chas's eyes were wide faith and devotion, the kind that opened up in clarity and guileless naivety. And it hurt to look at such human vulnerability- that was going to get the kid killed.

'There is no God for the condemned 'he stated frankly.

'If you repent, if you truly believe in our Father-' Chas stammered.

'No!' John snapped harshly 'There is no redemption for what I've done. What I've committed-' pure will cut the words, his hand twitched for another cigarette. He did not want to deal with this. He just did not want to think, turn the other head until the whole mess had sorted itself out or he had no other choice but to act. He did not want the guilt, of coiling disgust and loathing that- He chugged down the vodka like water and gasped at the almost heroine hit of sensation. Drowning the memory of the iron in his mouth. He could sense rather than hear Chas's protests and felt compulsorily essential to make the boy understand. To make him lose that faith- in John.

'Do you know what happens to suicides?' his voice rough with raw truth and acidity 'They are eternally damned in hellfire to commit the same act, over and over – ceaselessly tormented by every and any demon. Never dying, or released from the pain for a single moment. And I've got a lot of friends down under- but Lucifer- ' John jaw clenched , his voice contorted into growl that in caught in his throat. The notion of the theme park. The continuous torture administrated under the very hands that orchestrated hell itself, the ability to cleave the very essence of your soul at a single touch. Taunting, observing and grinning as John's mind unravelled under his claws. And what the hell had John done- to warrant the brutal focus of the devil .

'John?' the bewildered stutter made John jerk his head forward. Oh right, John had kept that one from the kid-through he had forgotten why in his drink. His head sagged snugly back onto the couch. He'll deal with it in the morning. When his head wasn't so confused.

'You think I chase demons for fun, Chas? Not money or your soul-and certainly not for the gratitude.' John paused, sightlessly gazed out into the sky. It seemed so long ago, 20 years ago in dark time 'Redemption? 'he noted .No-it was a reprieve. He had thought fighting was worth the absolution. Because how can he regret not wanting to live.

'God is merciful to those who seek his shelter. He will not let the righteous fall' Chas whispered. John's frown stabbed lines into his forehead as he turned to stare intently at the younger. Chas was not looking at him, instead he was huddled within himself, nipping his lips in anxiety with the occasional fidget of his fingers. In all his time, all the conversation that John had shared with Chas, there had been no indication of his younger's faith-till today. Not that they actually talked, it was more pleads on Chas's part and dry instructions on John's. Yet not a prayer, a hint or even the mention of God had passed the others lips. John had in fact presumed him a non-believer, with an academic curiosity of every faith. The fact that Chas was indeed faithful, twisted something cold in John's gut. It added another layer upon the guileless naivety – he lifted the bottle to his lips and found it empty. A snarl threatened to tear his lips; he was far too sober to finish the bottle. He should, as experience had dictated, been out cold before he had made it a tenth of the way. And _he_ was too sober.

'John, all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.' John's hand snaked out and seized Chas chin, the startling yelp was inconsequential as he scrutinised chocolate swirled eyes. A cubby hand that was curiously clear of callus griped his wrist, through pliant as he twisted his body to accommodate John's scrutiny.

'Since when have you been a believer, Chas? Hmm' the grip on his chin must have tightened; John could not judge with liquor in his blood 'Since when has God been merciful? He only loves and receives those who abide to his rules .Your preaching to Judas kid, I would stop' the threat was low and feral, and John could not account where the aggression had emerged. Only that unaffected wide eyes bothered him, worried him, gnawed at him- he did not think he could teach this Chas let alone be near him.

'John' And damn it, what was wrong with the kid. Had his eyes been so unyielding to doubt, so firm in his faith that his face stood resolute and still. Without expression or the plausible enquiry, the query that had always sat on that tongue- No. No... John was sure. He could recall, the questions, the inquisitiveness that defined Chas as the cab boy. His voice dipping in zeal or excitement, or irritating- Who the hell was this?

The hard twist of John's hand yanked Chas towards him, than slammed him on the wooden floor with a solid thump. His other hand had caught both wrists, which he forced above the younger's head uncompromisingly, inflexible in its grip. John crouched over, not weighing but restraining the other's chest as he peered deeply into warm brown eyes. Unaltered brown eyes. John placed a hand over brown curls and frowned as he dipped his head '_Sacerdos'_he hissed '_Ab Ordinario delegatus, rite confessus, aut saltem corde peccata sua detestans, peracto, si commode fieri possit, Sanctissimo Missæ sacrificio-' _John chanted, his voice spitting words that were etched into his mind through the years. Words that had stayed dependable if not the meaning. '_divinoque auxilio piis precibus implorato, superpelliceo et stola violacea indutus, et coram se habens obsessum ligatum, si sit periculum,' _That rolled of his tongue with ease and familiarity, a language that fell more expressively than Greek or English ever could. Words that were failing him now. A hush fell in the flat, that was felt heavy and tense and John could only press his mouth into firm lines. Chas laid silent- no demonic growls, strained veins or placid skin. No clawing nails or struggling limbs. No sign of effect or possession. But nor did he protest or fidget, like he would, like he should. Like that brat who pursued only yesterday, with a plea and a complaint. That had only handled a gun since yesterday. He just laid there- pliant and docile with large chocolate brown eyes, gazing at John. And that was wrong. It was wrong.

'Ironic John,' lips quirked into grin finally 'You to be a priest in his name yet you deny him your faith'

'You don't need to be a fan of God to get the job done' John snarled. He wasn't sure what to do- he was drunk or he presumed he was, well he didn't feel all that drunk but he thought he should be. He had no holy water at hand and he forgot where he had placed that damn cross. The fact that Chas was quite content to be held down, trusting and unaffected by the exorcist's ritual was beginning to make John uncertain. That and he knew he had been drinking...

'Yes. Yes it does, John. You see in the beginning, was the Word and the Word was with God,  
>and the Word was God. It is the words that you utter in his name. You need a certain amount of faith for that, John' Chas's head tilted to the side as he narrowed his eyes 'And there is power in your words. Why else are you the most feared upon this plane. You do have faith, but it is the selfish kind, the kind that holds fear.' If Chas did not shut his stubborn little mouth, than John would not be held accountable for the damage he would inflict. The biblical references were irksome to the least- John released his grip before his nails could mark the other in his fury and straightened, raking his eyes over the figure beneath him. Was he possessed? Yet what kind of demon preached the word of God? John ran a hand through his still damp hair and eyed the boy in suspicion, neither moved. Chas's face was impassive, nothing of the expressive child John had recognised, learnt to tolerate and perhaps exploit. But those eyes, wide and knowing, sprouting words that once played on John's mind years ago- Chas suddenly reached to cup John's cheek 'God will not abandon you John, even if you abandon him in name' John breath snagged as he flung the hand away. That was it, there was only so much that he could take before he would retaliate. There was something in the kid, and he intended to find what.<p>

Without another thought, else he would doubt, John grasped Chas's head and slammed it back upon the floor. Chas had not even struggle, his eyes had not even flinched at what he must have known. Head lolled to the side and finally his eyes closed, still trusting, still firm in faith. John knelt over the boy, silently, regretfully and irritated. In fact, John was feeling a bit edgy. The fact that Chas had decided to turn Catholic over night was plausible, but John could not discern what had prompted that one off. And he had a nasty feeling that it had something that he was intentionally suppressing, blocking out from his memory. John stumbled to his feet, securing his towel that had blessedly survived the tumble and ventured off to find some rope. He found it with a bottle of whiskey, and feeling a little more cheerful he bit the cork and gulped the first mouthful. Securing Chas's hands were a bit difficult, considering he kept forgetting which string to loop but eventually he had the kid's feet bound and hands. It was only when his hand connected to something hard, in Chas's hideously large coat , that John discovered another disturbing fact. Tucked within John's dish rag, was the 'Spear of Destiny'. John looked at the unconscious teen; it wasn't a question of whether Chas had forgotten. The fact it was wrapped in one of John's articles was incriminating, neither had boy mentioned it in the cab. John stood-this had to be dealt with now. There was only a few places he could trust now, Midnite's it was.

* * *

><p>'There is something wrong with the boy!' John insisted. Midnite had not been cooperative- but, that may be due to that fact John had hauled an unresponsive kid, uninvited, and proceeded to draw entrapment markings upon Midnite's floor and doors. John looked taunt and strained, a little drunk and unfocused. The last the witchdoctor had seen of John, he had been pissed and on the clasp of a crusade that he had no intention of tolerating. Which he had failed. Midnite leaned back and watched the man pace a meteor in his office, talking incoherently of Catholic's and demonic signs. Thus, while Midnite was infuriated with the man, he also recognised that John, despite his brash and bitterness had tried. Had in fact traded his soul and hope of any redemption. While thousands of others, with an ear to the wind, would see these 500yrs as a gift and dumb luck on Constantine's part. Midnite knew that Constantine would perceive it as a curse- to a man that only wanted to die but feared the consequence, this would be a long sentence of denial and liquor. And Midnite would bet, that Satan had taunting John with something far worse to make him strike this deal. Through it struck the balance on a fine cord. John, Midnite acknowledged, was the only one conceivable, that the devil had make exceptions for.<p>

'Constantine.' Midnite growled. He was already on the edge of violence with Mammon set loose; he did not need John sanity questioned in a time that he was most needed. The fact that Midnite had been unable to pin a location on Satan's little spawn, was infuriating as it was expected. The quiet was unnatural, the bar was empty and Midnite was now having to consider his oath of neutrality. Only now, with the world developing as it has, there were more than the two big sides of heaven against hell. 'The boy had his first brush of death. I take it he was your cab driver,' John ran his hair through his dishevelled hair and circled the boy on the floor. Midnite had never seen John such disarray, his shirt was untucked and rolled to his elbows, his tie was missing and-Midnite noted- no shoes.

'No, there's something else. He was sprouting bullshit like Gabriel' The name was growled with such aggression that Midnite could not condemn the man. Constantine was no longer restrained from harming God's messengers. If Constantine discovered a way to entrap the angel, than Midnite would aid him-damn neutrality. The half-angel had always been ambitious, self-righteous and somewhat apathetic to the plight of man. Warped in the word of God till envy had contaminated his duty. Yet the angel, after Mammon had been unleashed on to the world, had remained unpunished. 'But he resisted the exorcist rite and I'm sure-'

'The child is not tainted with the mark of hell' Midnite interrupted. John paused and turned towards Midnite; his eyes for the first time met his with-Midnite's chest congested as air left his lungs. The tension aided his abrupt movement, as he sprung from his seat and shoved the unprepared Constantine harshly into the wall. His head jolted with a resounding crunch and Constantine groaned into the strong clench of Midnite's grip upon his throat. Midnite slid John from his feet from his feet to better examine John pain gazed eyes.

'I always knew you played a dangerous game. But this, this is breaking all the rules'

John clenched his teeth as he righted his head. 'God has yet to smite me where I stand' he leaned forward in his limited freedom. 'I think that's a sign that he doesn't care.'

'Your existence can not be tolerated' Midnite stated, his position of neutrality demanded it. The balance was already tethered to hell, this could end it all.

'So kill me Midnite, end my miserable life.' John 's hair fell as he inclined his head 'But you won't. You know the deal.' Lucifer- the name was not uttered but it rolled in the office like hell's smoke. There was nothing Midnite could do, this was beyond his expertise -and with no knowing how this new development would affect their anti-hero, Midnite could not fathom if humanity would survive. John had always been tainted by hell, the ease in which he would travel between the two planes was not envious. But the stain upon his skin was far beyond that which should reside in earth or within a living body. Lucifer's mark, through not as visible to Midnite, would be a shining beacon to all demons that set eyes upon him. The taint was rolling in his blood. It was astonishing that Midnite had not picked up on it the moment that Constantine had stepped into the room.

'Tell me about this deal.'

John snorted 'What you haven't heard?' the disgust and hatred lined John's face. So he hadn't wanted it, Midnite confirmed, through it had been obvious. Satan had always played underhand.'500 yrs to bring the brat back to his daddy.' Midnite loosened his fingers and dropped the man onto the floor. John crumbled, his head resting on the door. Midnite walked to his cabinet, drew a bottle of gin and sat it near the man. He was hardly drunk enough for this situation. 'I summoned him too late. I ...hesitated,' John muttered , he picked up the gin and uncorked it 'Wasted time.' He took a gulp' I thought Chas was dead- Gabriel slammed him and there was no else that I could-' John's eyes flickered to the boy with weary grieve. Midnite stepped away; he should have known the John would have done this. Confronted with such a situation, John had done the only thing that made sense in his world. Being the doubt filled man that he was, he could hardly pray to God. He summoned the devil. 'I cut my wrists, I was dying- again. And Lu offered me a choice to die then or later' John's face turned mocking 'You thought that I would just roll over and die' he sneered 'I was going to hell either way, I picked the other option' And that was all John needed, Midnite shook his head. John lips twisted at Midnite's drained acceptance 'But I locked him in a contract and Lu didn't like that, he...' forced John to drink his blood to bind the deal.

Midnite pinched his nose. Of course. John cleared his throat and took another swig, almost choked. His hand came to grip the shirt of his chest and twisted it as he splattered. Until his lungs had turned into a full front assault as he coughed and choked on air. Midnite eyed his worriedly, John face had turned greyish as he hunched over himself, curling an arm over his abdomen. Maybe the immortality part had conditions that Midnite did not know. John was coughing something wet and black, but he held out his hand before Midnite could react, half vomiting and chocking on Midnite's floor. Finally he spat it out and fell back in exhaustion, the black mess was sticky and clung to John's white shirt-tar. 'Ah shit' he mumbled 'That was disgusting. Nearly enough to stop smoking' John's eyes lifted to Midnite's and took another gulp of alcohol to clear his mouth. John was coughing up his cancer. Well, that was extra-ordinary. Midnite could not help the grin that spread across his face. 'This is like the third time already, 'John continued 'Makes me wonder how much I have in me'

'20yrs worth, John.' John crooked a grin as he studied the amber liquid in his bottle. John's eyes landed on the boy and Midnite found himself watching the boy as well. 'Why are you so concerned about the boy?' there was a curious lint in his voice as if logic conflicted with the simple thought. John, drew a shuddering breath and lifted himself, albeit a little unsteadily to his feet.

'Because-'as it was reason enough, he unbuttoned his second button uncomfortably 'He's my apprentice.' John ignored the sceptical look that Midnite threw and approached the kid. The teenager did look a little ridicules, tied up and dumped on the floor with white marks drawn around him and brown curls around his face. 'There's something in him, Midnite' John dipped his head to the left where Midnite stood 'I just need you to take a look', Midnite sighed, just a glance, he conceded twisting his gold ring. It won't hurt the child.

Midnite knelt over the boy and took a deep breath, in one hand beads and the other he held hovering above Chas's eyes. Muttering the old symbols that had been passed generation from generation till had reached Midnite's tongue. He could feel John's restlessness; through he held himself still and quiet. Midnite rumbled the words, his fingers moulding till his thumb and little finger poised in front of Chas's eyeball, his fingers threading through the beads. Slowly, eyelashes flickered and Midnite could see-the brown clear eyes that belonged entirely to the child. Human, yet- Midnite coaxed the words forth, rolling the soothing words-awareness flickered in the child's eyes and spark of white. Unusual. Than a hand stilled his beads, Papa Midnite eyes were immediately drawn, pausing his chanting to find Chas eyes were wide open. But it was not the warm brown that coloured the iris, instead it was drowned in white that shone forth from his soul. He blinked and it was gone. Interesting. 'You say that you thought he died?' Midnite reiterated. John stepped forward, the question burning into Midnite's back, through Midnite still blocked his view from the now waking boy.

'Yes,' he replied finally 'Why?' So God had decided to intervene, and so typical and indirect. A decision that would depend on free will and choice, a balance to even the odds. Midnite twisted to look at John Constantine, it would seem that John was now that balance. Midnite could not even ponder the incredibility of that, and the responsibility of that entitled-but why?

'John, did you call unto God?' the disbelieve concealed under his neutral tone.

'No.' Midnite did not react to the abrupt response, the indignation. Instead he brushed his hat back and sighed.

'You should, the fact the child survived at all is a miracle in itself' he muttered. Brown eyes were fixed upon him and there was a smirk playing on that childish face.' The child is not possessed; such a close brush against death does change one's perspective.' It did on John.

'J-john?' the stuttered voice echoed and had older moving swiftly across the room, Midnite's eyes narrowed at the boy. Whatever the boy was playing at, it would seem his position was now guaranteed. There was no need to close the bar, his club would still be a neutral centre for both sides and other aspects. It was a relief, Midnite enjoyed both sides equally and had many friends and contacts, he would not enjoy choosing. The boy made to lift himself yet John shoved the boy back, his hand firm upon the child's chest, ignoring the huff of annoyance.

'You sure' John demanded, Midnite nodded, but the look of distrust did not rescind from dark eyes.

'John. Come on man. Let me up already. You knock me out and your drunk, and holy shit-when did we get in Midnite's club.' Chas grinned, dislodging John's hand' Oh, heya Papa Midnite. I don't know if you remember me, but I ah-' Midnite gave a bark of laughter at the sheer cheek of the child. But it reassured Constantine, for he withdrew and hauled the child up. 'Not so rough' Chas complained. It was odd, but Midnite could not see anything but that curious child that he had met only last night.

'I'll be leaving' John rasped, disgruntled that his paranoia had made him hurl the kid into the boot and drive the cab himself.

'Oh, okay John. Wait, are you gonna untie me?' Midnite seated himself back on his table and lit a cigar.

'John,' Midnite called, effectively pausing the others exit, he tossed a velvet pouch which John caught nimbly.

'What are these' John questioned, his voice dubious of their validity

'You will know' Midnite leaned back in his chair 'You can't run from this John, you need to act now' John did not answer, but the look on his face before he turned was one of bitterness- and resigned. Midnite glanced at the child as the slammed shut. The ropes dropped from his hands and the child pocketed it. 'There was a deal that was struck between the two great détentes. Does it still hold fast?' Midnite queried. Chas stilled, the enormity of the question made Midnite's tone strained, Chas glanced at the man than nodded. Midnite's beads clinked as he set them on the table 'And why did you reveal yourself to me?'

Chas shoved his hands in his pocket and shrugged 'I do not presume to know our Father's intention. Only my orders' before he too turned and hurried after Constantine. Midnite reached for the Gin and gripped the neck before taking a sip of the liquor. The boy was still young and Constantine was no longer blinded by his illness, he was sure it would be only a matter of time before the truth was revealed. What John's choice would be, would have a shockwave effect, of that he was sure.

* * *

><p>Not sure if I'm going a little out of character ; )<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

The air was cold as it was brisk, it chilled John's fingers as he lit a cigarette an in vexation. He walked swiftly and firmly, ignoring the kid's broad monologue as he crossed the evening traffic, Chas trailing persistently after. It had only been after Midnite's affirmination that John realised how impractical his theory had been. The mere fact that Chas had been able to pass through his wards and doorway inscription, initially and finally unconscious, was prove that the boy was not possessed. Merely deluded .The fact that John had been knocked off his feet by the vast amount of vodka he had drunk, had been another confirmation of his impaired judgement, the knowledge that he had panicked in his own delirium- he was ignoring. Constantine did not wait for the kid; his strides became longer and harder, his pace quickening, threading like silk through the gathering night crowds. He was aware that his dishevelled appearance was less threatening than per acceptable, thus drawing looks of the masses, he could spot the pickpockets, the hookers and the violent ones spoiling for an easy fight. He blew an easy breath of smoke. He knew with his admittedly thin ranked body lacking the aid of his trench coat, gave the visage of an scrawny target. He walked smoothly past the cop posing as a gangster, blowing a lingering stream of smoke. It was the nightlife of Los Angeles with the buzz of the hustle and business underneath city lights, the darkness of flashing entertainment and casinos, traitorous women and booze. It was crime and discretion. Death, laughter and dark alleyways. It was a hotspot for the paranormal. John eyed the half- breed angel, homeless with a cardboard plea on the streets beside him, with a sneer. Another ,business suit walking casually with a pretentious smile and spreading wings of shadow. Too obvious, too secure in their control to mingle with the reckless humans, it was the demons that slinked unnoticed.

Midnite's may have rules but they were also protection. In the streets; it was fair game. It was 'they' that John watched through dark lashes, with every dark flutter of cloth and every stride, they were watching. The chill had swept into his thin layer of shirt and pricked the skin of John's chest, or was it the apprehension. He inhaled the warm smoke. With the kid shooting of his name like no tomorrow, he knew it would be only a matter of time before one of these being's approached them. John sucked another sweet mouthful of nicotine and smoke, it would be a pleasant distraction.

'-wanna know about the congregation. It exist's right? There's rumours that Midnite is the congregation, or was it Areil. John- ' Chas was spewing questions as he practically ran alongside John, half apologising to passerby's and integrating John of a colt that no longer existed. Where had he parked that damn car? '-amulet, John? I've read it, I know that it-' Ah, there. John twisted on his foot , knuckleduster in his fist flying as he turned towards Chas. Chas eyes widened, and John watched his motion in the reflection of impossible brown eyes.

The demon's face yielded to the greater force, stumbling a few feet away. Chas blinked in disbelieve, than swirled at sound of harsh breathing behind him. If he was smart he would back away. Constantine had an entire amount of frustration and aggression, that smoking just wasn't cutting. Chas steeped slowly back as the half-breed raised his head, the black iris intensifying in its depth. 'Constantine' it snarled. John narrowed his eyes, yet his actions never hesitated, sharp and precise as he under cut a punch at his jaw, hit the kidney- the half breed fell. A few people stood in a half-circle, typical, as if uncertain upon whether to intervene or whether to leave the visibly pissed Constantine be. He lost his cigarette. The demon was on the concrete floor, still and observant –bloody. And oddly not getting up, his black iris had retreated to a startlingly blue as they fixed on Constantine's dark eyes. An unreadable expression, devoid of the customary hatred that accompanied fallen demons at John's. He had forgotten his bible, John cursed, deporting this demon later would be a hassle. Constantine's fists were curled, a few specks of blood on his collar but otherwise unbruised and tense in unbridled energy. A few seconds of release was not enough. 'Who's the toddler?' the half-breed questioned after a few seconds of Constantine's optimistic silence. Chas drew a startled breathe, clearly uncertain of the attention of a half-breed that tried to snatch him. Constantine pocketed the knuckleduster. He was hardly sated but he acknowledge that drawing attention on the now was hardly street wise. The vampire druggy at the corner of the street, eyeing the procedure was also an known informant-with Chas hanging on his shoulder. It would be unnecessarily foolish to draw further attention. He seized Chas's compliant arm, ignoring the inquisitive questions and dragged him to the last stretch to the car. Losing them in the crowds with ease and expertise, ah-there it was.

'-didn't see. Oh my god, John. My cab...my car,' Chas jogged to the cab that was parked- half on the curb and half into the street. There were cars driving perilously close due to high speeds and lack of space, threatening to clip the rear-again. Chas's hands knotted, searching and examining the paint, opening the hood. John reached for another cigarette and lit it with a flick of his lighter. The crowds becoming a blur in the distance, the noise fading with a puff of smoke. There was a reason why he knew Chas and that he walked between jobs, and it wasn't due to lack of funds. John neither had the patience nor the temperament necessary to learn to drive nor wait in traffic queues. He lost his temper -or what little he had. John opened the door and slid into the passenger's seat, ignoring the duffet bag beside him and waited indulgently for Chas to stop circling the damn car. The car had reached a comforting atmosphere of smoke before Chas had opened the door and slammed it shut, his lips perched on frustration and grieve. John recognised the signs of a rant and silently weighed the options of walking against the worth of an approaching headache.

'John, you killed my car. Do you know that, you killed her!' John shifted back into a more comfortable position, his head lolled back and he took another drag of smoke. 'You dented the trunk and how the hell did you break the tail lights. It's illegal to drive without taillights, John' even saying so Chas slid the gearbox into first gear. 'Why would you do that? Wh-why would you intentionally-' Chas's eyes sought his in the rear mirror, through that may be due to fact that John had misfortunately knocked the right-hand side mirror.

'Because...'John stated.

'Because?' Chas demanded. Well because, despite Chas's own reservation. John could hardly drag an unconscious kid on the streets of Los Anegles, at least not in broad daylight. Neither did he have an option of calling another cab, again, with an unconscious kid over his shoulder. So John had taken Chas's cab; that and he frankly did not care if it was an inconnivance to the kid. He shouldn't have been possessed, or unconscious at the least or so damn heavy on that matter. John took another drag and disregarded the proceeding complaints, it was only after Chas had fallen into a seething quiet that John gave him the address, in which time they had been three-quarters the way to John's flat. Then settled down and pulled another cigarette, breathing the numbing effect as they speed through the streets with Chas's complaints echoing again in his ear.

When they pulled up in front of the hotel, Constantine had finished his third cigarette, testament of how he bluntly did not want to be here. 'John, was it-did you say Beverly Wilshire?' Constantine nodded, before he stepped out the car, Chas followed, hesitant and compliant in uncertainty. John ignored the question posed in darting brown eyes and motioned for Chas before striding into the building with a new cigarette dangling from his lips. He didn't light it. The reception reeked of expense, polished wooden floors and exotic plants that was housed in delicate vases. The pillars was decorated in sculpted designs that were far to detailed to discern from a distance and light shone airily in the wide hallway- unto a smiling receptionist that looked expectantly at them.

'How my I-'

'Destined for the coffin nail' Constantine interrupted and continued to walk towards the lift. Chas steadily keeping pace beside him, through he observed how the receptionist eyes glazed, before turning away as is he had not noticed a scruffy teenager and a dishevelled man with a daunting expression, cross the pristine floors. The lift revealed a bell boy that Constantine smoothly disposed of by shoving the guy out. Chas grinned; sometimes it was awesome, sticking with John. The lift itself was insane as the reception area, every bit curved and delicately designed with even a sitting area. Chas grinned at his reflection in the mirror, tugging his unruly hair, feeling a bit foolish without his recognizable hat in this unfamiliar territory. John pressed the highest suite and rolled his cigarette between his fingers. Surprisingly, it was he that broke the calm that fell.

'What do you know of witches?' Chas's head snapped round with disbelieve clear in his eyes. John didn't enquire; he never questioned Chas's state of knowledge or opinion, or Chas's well-being or just anything. John just didn't do that. His rate of answers was in a similar outline, only reduced to mono-syllable replies or indiscernible sentences that Chas learnt- he wasn't supposed to comprehend. With but a drop of word that Chas would recognise thus research furiously, to find that Constantine had exclusively finished with that case and moved on to another. It was John's impatient, expectant silence that forced Chas to respond.

'Uh-huh. Well, I know that they are able to summon sprits, cast spells...familiars? Evil eye, black masses-it was a time in which God had not left these lands and so numerous pagan faiths spread. Their calendar revolves around the Sabbaths, the four greatest ceremonies of worship, is with the crops. They worship animals with horns, bulls, stags or goats, which they like to sacrifice-known as the 'sacred kings'.Ummm-It states in the bible 'Thou shall not suffer a witch to live'and-and'- Constantine held out his hand, halting Chas's narration in mid flow.

'There is only one thing you need to know. How to kill a witch if you need to.' Constantine looked over his shoulder 'And only if you need to. You don't want to stick around if you fail' Constantine leaned against the mirror, grimly watched the floor numbers fly above the elevators door. 'Witches are still human, so they are still capable to repent in the unlikelyhood ,should they die. They are vessels, transition points that demons, full-fledged demons strike bargains with in this plane. You want to curse someone, you go to a witch. You want see dead loved one, you bring something they want-a basic quo status...' Constantine fell silently, then glanced at Chas's reflection 'To become a witch, you need to sacrifice one that shares your blood. Cousin, mother, father –in most cases it is the unborn children in their womb. The sinless, the better and if the person was been blessed with a righteous life, the more powerful the demons that gather. They will always have a mark, particular to which ever level demon marks them. Dependant on the circle in hell that demon raoms, will determine how long they will stay on Earth. They may be prohibited to heaven but in hell, they're no chew toy ' The elevator rang open and Constantine watched Chas reflection critically. 'Natasha has lived for a very long time' Chas blinked at the implications of that sentence ,John was already striding down the corridor before Chas's brain caught up- they were going to see a witch?

'That's blasmaphy John' Chas muttered in desperation, his voice stressed and out of breath 'You can't actually-' Constantine ruthlessly shoved the other against the wall, his hand gripped Chas' neck securely but not as harshly as he would have expected. The thud echoed into the silence of the hallway, until finally Chas's blinked open his eyes- he had assumed he would be punched, at least once. Truthfully, Chas had never seen John so strung and taunt, aggression that might have been tempered by the decline in health, was now raw, opened and crimsoned with recent events. Events that Chas knew would be tempered in John's soul- John _had _cared deeply for Beeman, Angelica in particular. Yet John didn't grieve, he suppressed it, drowned it, camouflaged it with indifference to the extent that he believed that he _was_ apathetic. With the continually loss of friends, lovers and comrades in his line of business. It gave way to alleyway of frustration, anger and the physical need for violence, bloodshed and battle.

'Chas,' Constantine breathed in his ear 'I appreciate that death is very daunting, but I don't need a coward. If you do not stop with this preaching bullshit, I suggest you reconsider your career options- one, where perhaps you'll live longer.' Constantine released his grip and stepped away 'If you quote one more verse from the bible, call judgement upon my decisions, I will not hesitate to leave you.' He left before Chas could open his mouth; Chas tugged his jacket down and followed the other sullenly. He wondered what else had got John irritable. He found out when a little boy opened the suite door and he led them to his 'mistress'.

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><p>Constantine barely dodged the flying something as it shattered against the wall, a green smoke wisped out eerily. 'You-' she practically screeched, Chas who had been previously distracted, by what he was certain was a elm's soul, turned to the sight the avid red head... amongst the immense clatter. The room was a mess of secrets, of treasure of unknown, Chas's fingers twitched impulsively at the scrolls that appeared to have survived the middle ages- amulets, crystals, bags of unknown sources that enticed. Colours and shadows that blended with candle lights and the modern artificial light upon mystic substances. Objects and dark instruments scattered carelessly upon the rich mahogany furniture with flattering strips of cloth, rags of rich patterns-Arabian Chas noted- pots that glimmered with ingredients of different shape, powered, bone and preserved creatures, lined upon the walls. Human skulls crumbled, that stared endlessly into a clear balls of flame hazily casting shadows into its depths. A spider scurried over dice, shells and puppets that screeched silently frozen. And it was with a fluster of sparkling jewels and crimson silk that climbed her waist suggestively around her ample assets, Chas gawped at the 'witch'.<p>

Her scarlet hair was coiled tightly and tumbled upon her chest, as her clothes seemed inadequate, high cheeked bone with a sneering blushing lips and rapidly reddened cheeks. 'The great John Constantine! ' she mocked, another object went sailing. Chas watched the fragile porcine collapse like a stolen breath...it seemed Chas missed a vital part of the conversation- 'You fool! You dare trespass into my lair. You dare...' the pitch of her voice abruptly dipped low into a hiss, something more frightening than her previously deafening anger. A deadly wrath, like an venom snake poised to attack, her gold bracelets chinked ominously.

'Natasha, please' Constantine murmured, his head dipped as he rolled his unlit cigarette between his thumb and fore finger. It was a response that did not favour the reaction, the witch's fingers twitched worryingly, her eyes crackled with fury. Chas raised his hands and backed away slowly, maybe if he got to the front door he would remain unharmed. See? Insignificant, hardly worth the effort-back away now... unfortunately ,it seemed the John had not got Chas sick leave, for he approached the furious witch, much like he approached an average citizen, without caution. Constantine stood unfazed in front of the witch ignoring Chas's almost desperate signals from the corner of his eye, as his eyes trailed her littered table to finally rest on the upright owner. 'I'm here in business not pleasure,' Chas had thankfully stopped attempting to flee at his words, it would be a hassle to run after the kid not to mention dangerous at this point. Natasha had paused in her tirade, something John found pleasant. He could glimpse the curiosity and dubious conviction, that peeked from her painted veil eyes.'...business 'he reinforced, through she narrowed her eyes at him with a hefty amount of suspicion.

'And why should I believe you.' She hissed...yes-it did become personal after killing one's sisters, John acknowledged. Any other witch would have trapped him in a match box and set fire to it, as soon as he set foot in the hotel. It was for that reason that John had chosen her and not another of her coven, that and he knew she would give with her business sense. 'I know you John-what do you want?' and he knew that while she may brew and boil, with every insult and inconsistency he would turn, she would never betray him. The Witch of Nordlingen, ill-fated to forever give but never receive. And John could never give. Damn, was he itching for his cigarette. John's eyes flickered back to the table, Natasha understood-else she sensed it for she cleared her table with a sweep of her arm across the table. 'What businesses have you come to deal in' she questioned, still dangerous, John noted to himself as she signalled her familiar forward. John seated himself uneasily on the distinctively feminine chair. 'I know with your prescription, ecstasy will only decline your already dwindling health' Constantine shifted irked, it appeared that every inhuman to demon knew of his 'health'. It was also a known fact that witches were the ones with grapevines in hell; they spread the gossip on top but it was the knowledge that cost.

'No. I've come for...supplies' he amended. Natasha's eyes flickered with unholy glee before the emotion disappeared under indifference, ah-so she did not know of Beeman's death. But why would she, Beeman had been a private trader and John had been his only client. John rubbed the emerging headache; he had wondered when that hangover bliss would materialize. But she knew that John had other friends, one that had evidently supplied than died. He hated when that happened. Constantine's looked over his shoulder and sighed, Chas was backed soundly against the wall, focused on an object that Constantine knew was lethal.

'And he?' John's straightened his head, Natasha had a prospective look upon her. One that John knew she ran over unwary, gullible purchaser.

'He's with me' he stated, his voice unintentionally deepening-John cleared his throat hastily.

'Oh...?' but her attention was already drawn as the little blond boy set a intricate vase upon the table, he had already tided his mistress's trinkets which she had flung on the floor. Natasha smiled, curling her fingers upon a blond lock 'Beautiful, isn't he?' turning to John, he merely lifted an eyebrow. The boy stood, unnaturally calm for the age he appeared. 'The child was beautiful , so very trusting, more trusting than any child of my time...' the implication was clear ...how close she was in taking the child. And she would have, such was her nature. Her laughter ghosted her lips, smiling at the hard foreboden lint in John's eyes. 'Now, enough of this. Have you come for your fortune,' her fingers sprinkled the light blue powder into the basin, it dissolved into a green solution as it hit the clear water, fizzing 'Come John, let me unveil your future' her finger coaxed him closer, smiling enticingly.

John rolled his cigarette between his fingers 'Just supplies Natasha' He had no wish to be told what he already knew. No more than was he willing to be a hooked into a fate under Natasha's fingers, than he was for Lucifer. She pouted and looked hopefully over his shoulder 'Natasha' John drew her attention before she could fasten upon Chas. But the little boy had already drawn Chas to the table, he stood awkwardly behind John with a dazed look upon his face. It was great to know that the kid's hormones hadn't altered as much as his owner. 'I've come for a few ingredients, I'm willing to buy if you're willing to sell' John stood swiftly and gripped Chas's collar to still his approach, the last thing he need was the kid to get curious and look into the watery depths. Natasha bit her lips enticingly through her eyes never left John's, John tightened his fist in warning when he felt the boy responding. 'Just a few supplies'

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><p>misaria: Slash?-depends,any suggestions?<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

This brief scene turned into a chapter~

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><p>John had been smoking a chain of cigarettes in the last 10 minutes, muttering and cursing under his breath. Chas had wisely not questioned the man as he was- deep in thought and pissed. Through his tongue itched with unanswered questions. As such, the journey to John's flat had wrought in temptation on Chas's behalf and uneventful agitation on John's. The arrival to the destination had been a slightly more informative, with-'Get the supplies'- and Chas hastening to comply only to protest when John grabbed his duffet bag –the one with his toothbrush and all his necessities- and walked away with it. It was a disadvantage that Chas resented as he climbed after John, exhausted and three flights of stairs behind, saddled with wooden boxes and black bags-protesting the theft of his property. What had actually stunned him, was that the door was actually left open for him, a relieve as he had been unsure on how he would have knock and whether John would actually allow him into the apartment.<p>

He walked into the bizarre scene of John standing in the sink, the tap running, the man smocking and his duffet bag dumped on the floor. Chas approached quietly and slipped his burden upon the table, he ran his fingers through his brown hair nervously, unsure whether to draw the others attention or grab his bag and make a run for the door. Chas had only been privileged to glimpse Constantine's confidential sanctuary several times and he had only been allowed to set foot three times, thrilling as it was-Chas was presently doubting whether this was indeed a privilege or an actual safety procedure. Constantine was _the _exorcist, and Chas did appreciated that the guy was a bit of an asshole. Whatever he did, be it jumping off buildings or drowning possessed cats, he did it with authority; he did with his typical aggression and a certain assurance -that yes, he was going to let loose a couple of hell hounds and no, he wasn't going to save you unless he had to. Chas had witnessed the comings and goings, the calm in between the assignments, the gore and the smell that filled his cab for weeks ensuing to no passengers-but always the same cool apathy in John's eyes and the trail of smoke in his wake. And Chas had to admit, despite John standing in the sink, evidently sleep depraved at 10'oclock in the morning with his white shirt and black slacks, smoking himself into alertness. He looked awe inspiring; his eyes glinted with the same flint and apathy that just pierced through with knowledge, and experience, and authority- Despite the fact he was standing in the sink- with the tap running. There was no awkward, self conscious movement about him, just the man standing in the sink, with no reason –Chas mouth quirked. Well, as peculiar as John was at that moment, Chas really had go. He had missed two days work, through he was thankful he no longer worker for an agency, he still needed hard cash. Chas edged closer his bag, head bowed over his eyes in childish assertion, while John didn't look as if he was taking a trip to hell, with him you never knew. It was only when two cold fingers gripped his collar and hurled him backwards, that Chas conceded that sneaking past the man-the guy was obviously going to be noticed. Said man, just sucked another smoky inhale and blew it into Chas's face as a '_where do you think you're going' _expression that Chas was not particularly fond of.

John effectively used Chas as leverage as he dropped out of the sink and landed on the floor, twisting to turned off the tap and leaned against the counter. 'If-' John released his hold and bent to examine his feet, there was a litter of small cuts on the sole of his bare feet. '-you needed to find a demon, a powerful demon – a full demon hypothically' John gave a side glance before focusing on his other foot and picking a bit glass 'What would you do.' Chas blinked in confusion his mind was a whirl in response and question, flicking through the hazy categories that was his mind and memory.

'Ah, well-' he muttered taking a step back 'I would use an scrying spell-'

'No' John rejected unceremoniously; he leaned back and studied his dwindling cigarette.

'A silver chain –' John shook his head briefly, dark eyes flickered to his, steady as he exhaled smoke 'A piece of his -' Chas muttered hesitantly.

'The intent is to find him Chas ' the younger glared, it would be easier if he actually knew what the purpose of this so called scenario was. Which particular demon John intended to find and for what reason.

'Summon-'

John cut through 'No blood, no hair. No summoning; summoning a full demon gives it a choice' John flicked his lighter and set it on the table before sliding out a chair and settling. 'A choice whether to accept. Half-demons have no such choice, but a full fledged demon? They would not only know who is attempting to summon them-due to the use of your own blood- but it would also know where you are. You can't trap them if they are already on this plane and to summon them from hell, it would require more than only your blood -you would need a lot.' John flicked the flame shut and breathed a blow of cloud. 'A sacrifice... I find that half-demons blood suffice through angel blood is distinctly more powerful but not recommended. Anything distinctly angelic sets warning bells down under –Lucifer would know.' And even Chas knew that was an avoid at all cost scenario. The thought of anyone's life blood used so carelessly, especially angels, sent shivers down Chas's back. It was wrong. 'Think kid, a full demon.' Chas nipped his lip in contemplation-

'Midnite's' Chas muttered. John frowned in disapproval; he had thought those books would amount to some practical advice, but the kid didn't even know demons could not be found through scrying spells. What kind of books was he reading anyway? Constantine sighed as he blinked against that headache he was pretending was a hangover- because that was what it was supposed to be. A hangover after a night of hard liquor, not this post-hazy clearness.

'Midnite is an expensive friend, Chas' John stated. Even him going as far back, warranted few favours and a single death wish-which had expired. Unless the kid had another 'Spear of Destiny' shacked under his coat to bargain with, unknown to John but wrapped in his missing sock, than his attendance was the only favour that he would gain. And that was only due to association to John himself, which hardly amounted to much. Chas grumbled as he muttered through ideas and theory's, John's eyes lingered on that scrunched nose that always appeared when the boy was frustrated –so childlike and young. John sucked in another sedative breathe and exhaled. His fingers pulled out the car map that John had flinched from Chas's cab and threw on the table. There, that was a good enough hint.

Chas's widened in recognition but unfurled the map and studied the designs, his brows furled in perplexity. John had little doubt that Chas did know this particular curse if not the trick, but mixed with the dozen other useless intonations-it probably was drowned. Left by himself, John was certain that the foolish boy would go and research more- swallowing more unpractical facts and inadequate methods. It was cruel, yet it had previously amused him to watch Chas investigate and research, every hint that John dropped. Amused and oddly proud that the kid was book smart, it meant that the kid was capable of more than just a cab driver at the end of this. But now, it merely meant that Chas would need support, support that John would have liked to have denied in favour of independent work. Now, there was no spectacular realisation on Chas's behalf that he could and would die. That each job meant a life risk, that exorcist was scrapping the skin of something so much deeper and darker. There would be no moving on, getting a goddamn better life than living in a car. The kid was stuck with him and him vice versa. John sucked a lungful of poison, his fingers pinched into his flesh- he was practically the kid's guardian and wasn't that a kick him in the shin and a headache.

John leaned over, weaved his way through the packages before he located a green oval bottle, opening it and taking a sniff, he turned to Chas 'Get me chalk' the kid shuffle of to locate it from where ever the hell John threw it last and handed it over. John stabbed the cigarette out on the table and focused on the map, the script was something he had not used for some time, but he was sure of his white characters scrawled upon the map. John motioned to a cardboard, Chas obedient drew the whiskey bottle from its depths and handed to John dubiously. John flicked the lid and swallowed a mouthful before spilling the rest on to the map 'You know how to bless holy water?' Chas nodded , John gestured to the map.

'You want me to bless the alcohol?' Chas question uncertainly, John dark eyes flickered to his then turned to the sodden map.

'No. Alcohol needs no blessing to be considered holy. It's just for insurance sake.' The confusion in Chas's eyes only confirmed that the kid had yet to indulge in the vice of alcohol. God knows, John prayed to his nightly bottle daily, more whole heartedly than in any mass. In fact, he was regretting spilling all that liquor so hastily, he was sure that only a quarter of that holy liquid would have sufficed, the rest would have been swallowed agreeably on his tongue. The cross that was removed from Chas's neck was placed carefully on the table, with such devotion and humbled faith... John rubbed his forehead, ignoring his unease and the question of - where the hell had he gotten that from? And since when? That coiled in his stomach. He let Chas's smooth murmur roll the words with such pledge and dedication, lull him. John knew that Chas's eyes would be screwed shut, his eyebrows drawn slightly and the quirk of his lips as he drew to the end successfully without and hitch- but he didn't look, John did approve. It was a usefully skill and essential; you didn't need to be a priest to bless water only faithful- which was why John carried his holy water ready. John tossed his cigarette lighter, the flame flickered then the map splattered into flames, tilted his head of the chilly blast.

'John-' Chas gasped, the incredibility and shock glazing his eyes 'Your table is on fire.' John turned to the other, had he not see him throw the lighter there? He hadn't been devious about the deed, he had clearly thrown the damn thing.

'I know' John confirmed 'I set it on fire for a reason' he added, Chas's deductive reasoning seemed to be mislaid somewhere in that clatter of his mind. Chas blinked a John, the look reminded him of the one Chas had when he first walked into the apartment, only moments ago. John wondered whether he should spare the time to explain that the table was in actual fact not burning, but the map. Then dismissed it, it was pretty self-explanatory. If the kid hadn't have figured that out by the end of the day, then John was resolved to use Chas's hand as an visual example. Pain had always been a powerful motivator for him. The map was all but disintegrating when John tipped the green bottle and flung the powder into the blaze, sparking it into a spitting hiss 'Crushed bones of the fallen or zombies as you would know them as' John explained, Chas looked horrified, the kid was smart after all-there was no sugar sprinkle to disguise the fact it was human bones that John tossed into the mix. Necessary. At least he hadn't risen the poor bastards again-that, John acknowledged, was probably Natasha. The orangey flickering flames had turned to a hissing blue and John muttered the final words in demon speech-

There was no smoke or the distinct smell or burn, just the sudden extinguish of fire and the remains of ash. Chas hesitated forward and reached for his cross, John halted him 'That was tame for the fire of hell, but a fire that originated from hell none the less. That metal of that cross is melted; it would be like sticking your fingers in boiling water if you touch the damn thing now.' The frown his temple deepened, trust the kid to want the only thing that could harm him on that table. The detail that it was now purely a piece of metal, ineffective now that it had touched hell's wrath-John didn't mention. He didn't want the kid to get sentimental over the stature, the fact he had got the kid to bless the devil's drink was probably something he should restrain from mentioning as well. Sealing a deal with a demon, through a witch. Not to mention the perverse use of God's holy words...John forced himself not to think of all the ways that he was tarnishing Chas's soul. As in controversy he reached for his own lighter, cool to touch within his palm, a glance at Chas reaffirmed that the kid understood the significance of that. Yeah, John had stolen a lighter from a demon in hell then damn well blessed it, in the biting paradox that if a demon touched it-it would burn their fingers off. It obviously was immune to one Satan however.

He brushed the ashes off the remaining white pieces of map that was remarkably cool in contrast to the warmth of the ashes. 'There are ways, more treacherous, fatal in finding a demon that's crossed this plane. But I don't think you're ready to plunge into hell or cross raise dead warlocks as of yet.' Constantine flicked the golden lighter and lit the cigarette, breathed the smoke in deep. 'A demon is always traceable, no matter how far they obscure their position. But Mammon-' was that little spawn even a demon, fallen angel? Half-demon? It was unknown who had birthed the brat, only that he was one of the most potent, dominant amongst the horrors that Lucifer had unleashed unto hell. The evidential followers that he had managed to persuaded in and out of hell, Gabriel included, too defy his father's command was impressive. The damage he could exert, devoid of that restrictive shadow of his father, was not something John could imagine nor allow.

'Ma-Mammon? As in the Lucifer's son, the child born of perdition-' Chas falter ed. John frowned, had the kid not known? Well, there hadn't been exactly brimstones and hellfire raining outside yet, the world seemed to function in its everyday oblivious state, but the kid must have noticed Midnite's vacant bar-no, John amended, the boy was hardly a regular. Yet Angelica, surely he had seen –no, the boy had stumbled half blind and half in the know after him. Not even knowing the significance of neither Angelica's death, nor the women herself. All that he had known was John was there and he had followed, with that goddamn faith in John, in him. John walked to the cabinet and pulled a bottle of Gin, poured a generous amount and pushed it towards the kid-the bottle was for him.

'John, I don't-' John ignored him, the boy would soon learn that drinking was the nectar of their job. Cos it certainly hell wasn't worth the pay.

'Mammon is walking this plane. Gabriel was the symbolic 'hand of God'-' Chas flinched, the words of disbelieve on his tongue. John rubbed his hands over his eyes, swallowing another mouthful of Gin and more, as if he needed another reminding of that night. Another mistake after mistake and mistake, his life was fine pit of it with crap all over. And Gabriel, wasn't she the worst of it, he knew that little arrogant self-righteous half-breed- yet why had John declined to act. John took a medical sip of nicotine, yearning just to stuff his lungs full and forget. Chas had fallen silent, the confusion, the delusion of angels shattered in front of his eyes. John had always known, had never been deluded. He knew, it was because of all the upright half-breeds, she had been the only one that thought he could be saved, that his soul was worth saving. The one that might be willing to plead on his behalf. The one he went to for a regular update, hope against know that he had earned a reprieval at last. He should have known from just that. There was not pity for the damned. John cleared his throat, the knowledge of what that hope had done weighing against his chest, hell onto Earth '-that allowed the brat to cross over, Angelica was his personal doorway. 'John paused, assessing whether to enlighten Chas of the present predicament or whether- 'I've got personal business with Mammon-'

'You have personal business?' Chas whispered, perhaps he shouldn't have 'This is the son of the devil. Lucifer, John, there is no reason why- I- why wasn't I. They just, and I-' Chas stuttered incoherently. 'I thought, I wasn't told-' John pushed the glass with his bottle, Chas hand gripped and studied it in complete disarray and confusion, biting his lip. 'I don't understand .Is this the Apocalypse , the end of days- of the reckoning?' John took a swig of his gin, as if he gave a damn if it was. He knew where he was going, be it 500yrs or tomorrow. John breathed another mouthful of sweet bliss and studied the boy across him. But he was going to hunt that little hell spawn and deport his ass right back to hell.

'Beeman's dead on his say. Hennessy died trying to warn me. Angelica he actually killed. There is personal business and there's more' That and his contract to Lucifer, but let's not screw the kid over before he digests this little package.

'Hennessy's dead?' Chas repeated, John heaved a sigh, had he really let the kid walk into that building so unaware. The night before had been an upheaval of resentment and bitterness, but determination. And the kid had impressed him that night. He had been convinced yet; John watched unrelenting brown eyes flickered in uncertainty. 'Are-are you sure. I mean, he could- 'Why had taken him along? Oh yes, he had been sick, in pain and could barely lift his holy gun let alone protest the kid's presence. Oh, and Midnite's intuition, which proved to be pointless in the end. John flicked the ashes from his cigarette grimly.

'He's dead' and with him died any hope of shoving Chas unto priesthood. No chance of that now, and there were no other capable of protecting the kid, with Chas's being on hells hit list- courteous of the past association with John. Now he was ethically responsible and wasn't that the worst kind. The boy wanted to be an exorcist, John wasn't sure he would survive, but by God the kid was relentless. Always, since that first time John had hailed the cab, covered in soot and the devil knows what else, stamped the dirt from his boot than left without paying the fare. The next time-

'_So-you hunt vampires or are you just an exorcist' the nervous flick of his brown curls swamped by a ridicules cap, wide brown eyes of child reflected in the driver seat and tense fingers on the wheel. _

'_What?' he had grunted_

'_I know-'_

'_Just drive kid' _

John should not have dismissed the kid. Chas had followed him through the alleyways and nearly got killed for his curiosity. Nor should he had have allowed the kid to drive him home after, the kid was like a lost hell hound, persistent. He did care for the boy, to a degree, namely free transport and reliability that would always be Chas. John observed the kid struggle with the concept of death, his eyebrow furled as he nipped his lip with grieve and confusion. And John didn't want the responsibility, knowledge and blood that would no doubt dry upon his hands when he did. Not when he had only recently realised what Chas's death would mean if were to die on John's watch. If John were to die and Chas had continued into road, well that was hardly any fault of his, yet to teach the kid what would defend him, simultaneously would sign witness to his death warrant. Why the hell had Hennessy go and do exactly what John had told him not to? Did he not see him pull the soldier demon from the little girl? Chas certainly had, if his complaints were anything.

'John?' the tentative voice murmured

'What?' he snapped, the smoke could only ease so much tension before the inhaler reached that limit. Chas flinched, he actually recoiled and didn't that just make John's day. Well, it used to-back in the days. John closed his eyes and indulged in another pull of smoke. Had the boy always been so uncertain, spineless? John could not honestly say-he had always half ignored the kid, the other half filtering the loaded information he sprouted, curious little brat through he was. Ahh, yes-John straightened the ashen pieces of the map, spelling several locations clearly on the road map detailing each location 'You can't track a demon as strong as Mammon,' Chas grumbled, indistinct in the background, yes it had been a trick question but kid should have known -'Every demon worth his sulphur, has a league of minions, half-breeds if you will. In this case every demon, half-bred or otherwise is under his direct sovereign.'-Clinging to his father coat tails , he'd bet- ' If you can't keep track of a demon, you can certainly hunt down his little underlings and torture the exact location. It's reasonable to suggest that Mammon would have powerful demons, ones with influence and connections. And there are few with that kind of pull in Los Angeles' -unless Mammon has skipped out of town, John would not be pleased if the brat had- 'these just happen to be where these demon lordings deal businesses. And this is where we start' Constantine handed a single fragile paper and dropped it into Chas's palm. The kid blinked at the address, nodding softly. John brushed a few ashes of the table 'Can you tell me why?' he muttered.

Chas wide brown eyes flickered to his than back to the paper 'Cos it has an unusual amount of demonic activity?' indeed, the piece of paper was larger than the rest.

'Well done kid' he murmured, the ensuing grin he ignored. He strolled into the bedroom, grabbed a handful of warding books and a ruler scale. Chas looked curiously at the books in John's hand, or rather the ones that were slipping out of his grip. 'These are protection seals; I want you to pick the ones you think is appropriate and spray it on the wall. The spray cans are behind you in the drawer. If you are off by a centimetre, if the sigma is wrong-if I essentially don't like it. I will make you do it again –' because. John shuffled through the books till he found a plain black one-'this requires rituals, but it also explains what each line signify. The red one is in Hebrew, so if you haven't leant it, learn it. You know Latin' John shifted the pile of books on the table and grabbed the remaining amount of Gin. The brat had a laptop; he should be fine for a few hours, the look of dumbfound excitement told John such. Anyway, the hazardous stuff was in his bedroom, majority of which was in his closet. Oh yes, the lethal objects in the shopping bags 'Don't touch the bags' he instructed-'and clean the table' he ate on that. And since Chas was under his property, he might as well exploit the kid. Was that it? He distinctly remembered that there was something dangerous that he was forgetting...he stumbled towards his bedroom. Never mind, John would sort out any mess that would ensure. Three nights of no sleep and one shower, just wasn't cutting the alcohol intake. 'Don't leave the flat and put some ice on that tattoo' was the last thing Chas heard. The forgotten cigarette burned itself to ash by 12:30.

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><p>Yes-John is teaching Chas. Review please, if you exist...<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

Chas breathed as silently as his lungs would allow. No, this was not what he expected when John had stated 'We're going out'. Heart beat furiously against the wall that shielded his back and he nervously licked his lips, eyes darting as inconspicuously as he could. The indecision- should he abide John's instructions or should he follow- whirling around his mind. Chas nipped his lip, eyes following every half-demon that passed him with caution, his wide panicked eyes probably drew them nearer still as one women winked at him alluringly. And then, there were them...Endless streams of them that walked in and out, milling like bees to a hive. Harvesting. All taunting, seductive- sensing the venerability of easy prey under practiced eyes. Chas deliberately averted his own, his breathe hitching as chocolate brown iris sought the entrance, praying that John would reappear before any would advance. To conquer, to claim. Cursing his heart jumping nerves, sweat inducing fear but especially the curiosity that licked his brain. Eyes flickered to the doorman that guarded it, the half-breed grinned tantalisingly but made no move to approach him, another half-breed to the left of his vision was edging closer. Disguised as biker and definitely taller, Chas breathed shakily. He grin waveringly, in what he hoped was a confident smirk .No. He could not deal with this. He had no memories- or else had forgotten due to time -of what to do in such a situation he had found himself in, exposed and unsure- his hands clenched in fists stiff beside him. And neither had he ever followed John to one of his jobs. In the days that were only yesterday. His function had simply been to question or drive, but sit safely in the car a few blocks away as John had specified. Chas shifted on his feet, back firmly pressed against the wall, beseeching to disappear far away from the threat or taint of hell. No one answered.

Chas refused to let his whimper escape. The hell with orders, his heart thumped heavily in his chest. Constantine was only a man... He eyed the doorman underneath his lashes, cautiously, taking a bolstering breath he stepped forward. He was only a man, but by the heavens he far more...Another step in front of the first, the biker backed off, familiarity telling him not to obstruct the insignificant prey as he approached the 'secure' entrance. Chas steps quickened, the doorman flashed a charming smile as Chas drew near, confidence outlined. Chas returned it-

'Hi ther-

'Excuse me' Chas ducked under the doorman as swiftly and as credulous as he could. Straightened and all but sprinted into the reception area without a glance back. The lack of upheaval behind him, informed him that the doorman had not, as he feared he would, pursued him. Chas drew a long breathe. Then again, John had walked into the building with a bible in hand and a trail of smoke in his wake, and the doorman had hardly blinked. Common sense told him that the doorman was just for show rather than actual apprehending, but his instincts rejected the idea-demons. If Azrael spoke true then he was right to fear. Chas eye's flickered around him, observing the classical blend with modern designs that decorated the open area. It was impressive, and Chas would have been suitably impressed if not for the occupants that walked it's floors. He paced the reception edgily, drowning in the potent bland of hell and its residence- where had John gone? Where? Chas tried to calm himself before his anxiety attracted the security guard's attention. Mixing himself as far as he dared into the mass. Why were they all half-breeds? Where were they? He had yet to see a human soul not corrupted with misdeed and sin, even that receptionist was bathed in innocent blood. A man's, her husband...And there were no maps. Chas bit the inside of his check and forced himself to focus. The elevator-! Of course. Chas dipped his head in hope that he would not be noticed, acutely missing his cab hat. Surely John would not have brazenly approached the receptionist nor would he have climbed the stairs, smoker that he was-the elevator was the logical step. Chas hastily rushed for the elevator, barely managing to squeeze himself into the mirror box before the elevator forcefully snapped close.

Chas adjusted himself, shifting away from the businessman he had thrown himself into in his haste and leaned against the door. The elevator walls reflected the throng squeezed within its belly, crowded and humid. A women huffed beside him, but otherwise was too occupied with the open folder in her hands to object as Chas invaded the space. He wrinkled his nose; someone was smoking in the corner as he tried to peer at the dial in front of the doors. Thankfully there were two entrances –Chas eyes stuttered wide. What?

The bold grip on his hip compressed, panic coursed through his veins- but before he could react, the other had manoeuvred him against the door skilfully crowding into him. Scorching air brushed above him, as a hand lazily caressed his shoulder. '_Don't look up, don't look up,'_ Chas repeated in a chant, he bent his head further and pressed himself further into the wall. His hands shook in fright _'Oh no. No. Don't look up. It won't be long. Wait. Just Wait... John?'_ the taller pushed further into Chas, in contrast to his light almost innocent touch. Chas hunched his shoulder, prayed for the doors behind him to open as the elder man leaned further into him 'Come visit my office?' the quiet demand was layered with suggestion. Demonic allure. Chas shook his head mutely. His eyes fixed on the black polished shine of the other's shoes. No, bad idea. Whatever he couldn't do in a room of half-demons, was bad for Chas. Finger caressed his jaw line 'Come now' the seductive tone amplified, but there was perplexity in the undertone. As if-Chas bit his lip, damn it, he had forgotten that humans could be so receptive of demonic suggestion. Chas hastily slipped his arms in-between them as a barrier, compelling some distance. There was no one he could turn to, merely to try not draw any more attention to the fact he was the only non-demon in proximity. Far from it and he knew he would not survive unnoticed if he did. Now that he thought about it, John would never do something as impulsive as jump into an elevator full of half-demons. Idiot. Idiot. 'I can show you something that you won't regret' a finger running down his shoulder was enough suggestion then he could handle. Chas shivered, his human emotion was far more potent then he could control. He hated it, it distorted him. Fear made him scared, confused, unsure.

Chas forced his hands to catch the other's before it could tip his face upward. Mind fighting natural instincts. 'I was told to go to the director's office. Would you take me there?' he bit his lip, his teeth catching the plump flesh there. As naively as he could...What was he doing? Fingers trembling concealed as he tilted his head, just so eyelashes could brush the other skin incidentally. Attempting seduce a half-demon, and a male demon at that. Idiot-stop. Stop! The hand in his grip tensed and clutched tightly, Chas heartbeat stifled him in the enclosed area, heavy air suddenly rushed beside his ear. But the man withdrew.

'Of course. It would be my pleasure' a hand brushed his cheek 'Such a shame through' Chas nodded ,quickly dropped the man's hand and murmured quiet thanks. He stood uneasily ,the other had stopped but he had yet to step back. Enclosing around him but barely touching, Chas's eye flickered to his second blazer button, not daring to object nor lift his eyes. Heat surrounded him in waves suffocating him and he drew shorter and shallower breaths. The man chuckled, doubtlessly knowing Chas's uncomfort. The elevator unexpectedly dinged behind him. Chas hasten to exit but a firm hand on his shoulder prevented his swift departure. 'Oh no, love. The director's office is on the first floor.' People milled past him, hardly glancing at Chas as they stepped by continued on their way. Hardly heedful of the silent protest as the man unyieldingly drew him further into elevator alongside him. Shivers erupted Chas's skin in proximity, forcing Chas's full awareness as his head exploded with bells. It was almost empty now, but a few people. The elevator door snapped shut. Chas drew a deep breath and wondered his options-his ability to run next time the elevator door opened. The half-demon had yet to withdrew his grip on his shoulder-

'Elsie. How good to see you. What has it been, a century or so?' Chas jerked his head to the women beside his capturer, her pencil skirt and heels were mind dizzyingly high.

'Yes, 471' was the blunt reply; there was strained but brief silence.

'You counted, I'm flattered'... upon her side, the man respond easily. Chas shifted on his feet apprehensively. Eyes flickered to the dial that counted the floors. 'On your way to the directors meeting should I presume?'

'No' curt reply, the women was fingers tightened on her handbag.

'Pity, I could have used the company-' Chas's mind halted. What? Director's meeting? He had believed that the man had lied; would try to lure him off to some secluded closet. Attempt to suck his soul out, kill him, use him as a plaything. If the half-breed simply transferred Chas over to the director in the meeting, then... what pretext or justification could he use of presence? The director would only have to open his mouth and his excuse would be shattered. He was screwed. He had to flee before they made it into that meeting room, find John quickly or else... '-permanently. Through, it would be a shame to see the old order disappear. Employee's such as you and I, would of course loss our position in this company.' The man continued smoothly, even without the allure that drew unsuspecting humans. It was silky.

'You are not employed by this company' was the prompt answer, silence then 'Why would it concern you?' She questioned more cautiously. Chas frowned in confusion, curiously peeked despite the fear.

'My dear, it is the thought. I would hate such a hard working employee to lose the respect and privilege of what she had earned. Rather than it to be given to those upon birth...'he left the few sentences tantalisingly soft. There was a shuffle behind him, the man in the briefcase made a sound of agreement. Through both half-demons ignored him. The women was visibly agitated, she fingers danced across her clipboard.

'Yes. It is rather unreasonable.' Her voice wavering, Chas fixed his eyes to the other man's shoes. Head bowed discreetly. Just what was he playing at?

'Unreasonable? Why, the thought had crossed my mind.' The man paused, tasting the words before spilling them 'But the question is, is it legitimate.' the tone may have been light-hearted, but the words were certainly heavy. The tension in the elevator had unexpectedly risen a few notches, not that it effected the man's light hearted tone 'Well, this is my floor. I'll put in a word in with Drake, see that you won't be permanently disposed of. ' The women did not respond, and as the elevator door opened and the man sharp shoes clinked forward. Chas dared to lift his eyes, blond strands styled in the classic office look, red lipstick with a tight white shirt. A tidy appearance with pearl earrings. Light make-up. And tears that ran her mascara down her proud chin. Chas's mouth slipped open, at loss ...'Ah, I seemed to have forgotten my package...' before the steely hand gripped his shoulder and lured him away from the tears.

Chas hardly had time to object as the man stepped smartly forward through the corridors, receptions, past windows that overlooked the city. His eyes wide, distracted by the paintings that looked distinctly expansive, floors that were black marble, the rich figures displayed through cabinets- stumbling and off-footed. Eyes that finally landed and studied the back of his captive's head. He was perhaps taller than John, stronger due to his heritage and groomed. Dark brown hair that was slinked back and touched the fringe of his white collar that was framed by his tailored strip suit. Long legged judging by his long strides and fast. Chas experimentally tugged his hand, resulting to the grip tightening. How could he escape? He couldn't overwhelm him but...His mind a worked furiously to catch up with the fast pace, to shut out the distractions, to not panic-'Wait' he half shouted. It was a shock to Chas's system when the man actually stopped, abruptly, arm still firmly gripped; he hurriedly turned his eyes down.

'Yes?' the silky question was whispered close to his ear. Chas cringed and bit his lip, the disgust rolling his stomach, but he forced his mouth to move.

'I was told specifically to wait in his office.' Chas stated, trying to add confidence to his voice.

'Oh?' the man contemplated, Chas nodded in confirmation, his heart beat furiously 'That would be a pity; I suppose he would just have to share then.' The firm grip pushed Chas through a glass door that Chas had not taken note of, and clicked it firmly behind him. Chas whirled around; body tensed eyes flickered to the door handle that was securely turned. 'Apologies for my tardiness, but I had to pick up package.' Chas turned his head slowly, dreading what his mind had already concluded. A room full of high level half-breeds, each looking inquisitively at the new arrivals. Chas lowered his eyes, desperately searching the floor for something, anything that would allow him to escape. 'I believe, director that this is yours?' the inquiring tone stirred a man at the front of the desk. Chas took a step back. He was damned. There was no way that the director would confirm his lie, and in front of these half-demons, each from a liege that transcended from the fallen...his heart rushed through his ears. Muscles strained and tense-should he...?

'No. I believe that's mine' a click of a safety latch.

'...John' Chas voice was half-chocked in recognition, half-twisting his head.

'What? This pretty little morsel Johnny?' his black blazer hung around his feet and Chas dared to lift his eyes. John. Dark eyes flickered to his, scrunatansing sharply before returning to the half-breed. His lips pressed in displeasure and vague irritation. A cigarette hanging from his lips, unlit but the smell of cigarette hung strong around him. And Chas could not help but draw comfort from the smell, even if what it symbolised was a slow suicide. Curiously the other demons had yet to react, content to let the two converse- 'You shouldn't let such a tasty treat run alone, now should you' Chas took a cautious step towards John, his legs ready to flee or fight.

'That's my apprentice, asshole. Not my pet.' John had hardly moved, but the stiffness in his hands belied his tension. They were in a room with thirty or so half-breeds, ordinarily this would not have been an issue. He would have been prepared to die, glad for it. Probably would have enjoyed it. Except what was the point? He could fire half a dozen rounds, kill a dozen if he was lucky ...Die, then be resurrected, probably visiting hell somewhere along that trip. There would be no retrieval anymore. Constantine swallowed the memories that threatened to lurch from its dark depths. Only he had Chas to think of, the kid had no such insurance. John could die, that he didn't mind but to have Chas follow moments after or worse, kept alive- No. That wasn't going to happen. He wouldn't allow it. After all, who would keep the kid alive if he did survive? The kid had no chance. John withdrew a lighter and lit his cigarette-reckless but he really couldn't give a damn- eyes flickering across the room. It seemed that the half-breeds were just there to watch. Well John was fine with that; he flicked his lighter closed, hand steady 'This is 9mm gun hollowed in holy water. You want to test that fate yours Balthazar? I promise I won't miss this time.' Balthazar laughed, a laugh that echoed the unspoken room, still none of the other half breeds stirred. Eerie in that of itself.

'Johnny .I don't think that would work this time. This time, I have a benefiter,' the grin that stretched his face was mocking .John narrowed his eyes, benefiter? The only one that would guarantor of a half-breed was the sperm donor. Oddly, loyalty or blood was not something approved of in hell. So to have Balthazar claim that half-cock and bull story-well that was just ludicrous. Balthazar's father ,of what he understood, was somewhat of a tyrant.

'Who did you sleep with.' John mocked 'Your mother' the resulting twitch was rewarding. Balthazar's smooth clinical smile lost the polish of ease. As with all half-breeds, the topic of their poor deceased mother, was taboo. And John relished spitting it at every half-breed that pissed him off. Balthazar for example. Chas was now completely behind him, and John only hoped the foolish boy wouldn't do something as thoughtless as run through the corridor. The building was a nest of half-breeds, once you caught their attention, it was feasible impossible to escape. The only escape route at this point was through those windows, one that John was prepared to jump.

'No actually. I cut a deal.' Balthazar shifted and dug his hands into his pocket. 'You know, hell isn't pleasant to half-demons either. I trip down wasn't what I planned in this minilleum'

'So you bring hell here you sorry sonofabitch? Glad to know that you enjoyed yourself' John growled, his eyes were narrowed in hatred. 'Maybe I could arrange an reunion. I know that mother of yours would be glad to see you' Yeah, he could imagine how that would play out. A murderess, her rapist and the devil she spawned. Pity he wasn't there the first time round.

'So much aggression.' Balthazar hissed 'You and I both know that you'll be coming with me this time round-' John's snort conveyed his doubt of that, despite his stance widening minutely-

'Balthazar!' a man barked, the one that Chas presumed was the director, stood. 'There's no such need ...to threaten our guest.' John inclined his brow, his head dipping unconsciously as the man stepped a few steps forward and clasped his hands behind his back. Balthazar clenched his teeth .John frowned. He had been quite content to see how far Balthazar would take before he lashed out. The fact he had withheld himself for this long was extraordinary, considering they weren't physically restrained by Midnite and his neutral bull.

'And you are?' he questioned, the gun never leaving Balthazar's head. If this was going to end in a fight, then Balthazar was the first on his hit list. He stilled owed Beeman a debt. The satisfaction of putting a bullet in-between those arrogant eyes, was just a minor pleasure. He half-inclined his head as he acknowledged the posed figure.

'I'm the man that could be your ally, John Constantine.' He was a balding guy, stereotypically of the persona he was portraying. Middle aged, average height, grey eyes-typically and virtually undetectable. The worst kind of, likely a politician with a silver tongue to hiss.

'And why would a demon ally himself with an exorcist.' John questioned nonchalantly 'Or are you converting?' A Catholic half-breed- that would be amusing. Through may be more difficult to deport his ass back to hell if God intervened. The half-breed chuckled, his expression perfect in the guise of warm-hearted advisor.

'No. I don't think it is a question of God that draws us here today. But our Lord...'

John eyebrows funnelled 'Lucifer.' He stated

'Yes.' The businessman rubbed his fingers upon his thumb 'You see, there now poises the difficult question of whom...is our Lord-'

'Why should I care' John cut 'I have no patience with the politics of the underworld-'

'You will care.' the words were forceful and direct. 'This effects upon this world would far reach this than hell. This has the making of a revolution, the first revolution since the fall of our Lord. The question is whether to hinder this unexpected development or let Mammon topple his father as is the natural law of our kind.' John blew the smoke from his lungs and blinked.

'There are sides being drawn. When Mammon conquers this plane, our brethren will soon follow, water will be no barrier, mirrors will be doors. The apocalypse will hasten forward. It would be a second hell under Mammon's rule, forged from fire blood, reborn in the embrace of the dead' grey eyes steady on its lone audience, a few half-breeds stirred but held their silence. Chas mumbled a few words but those were lost on John. The wariness of the day was dodging his heels, a headache was pulsing his forehead with sudden intensity.

'Looking forward to it' John sucked the sweet addicting taste, rolling it in his mouth in distraction. Warding off the pulsing annoyance. More damn demons to deal with, not unexpected. A hassle- life as it was known would end, but inevitable. It was the dead crossing over that John would like to avoid. Death was a harsh concept and hell was likely the destination. Life's would no doubt be sacrificed... loss, destruction, causalities... the mayhem, horror ,torture...screaming- images flashed in his head ,memories-pain- recollections, cruel fingers, cold steel- No!

'I believe...' the crinkled eyes deepened'...we're not quite ready for that.' John eyes snapped to the other's, drawing him from his depths, he blinked the reflection from his eyelids. His eyes automatically drawn to the scene, scanning the city of Los Angeles from the heights, half dismissing the threat that the half-breed posed. He breathed a calming breathe, dosed his racing pulse, forced the words from his thickening tongue.

'And this concerns me?' he almost fooled himself.

'You. You have the ability to stop this' the half-breed stated. Stop this? John threw his cigarette, anger grinding the nicotine under his boots. The reminder of that failure, his inability to stop Mammon birth into this world... Angelica's death. The subsequent deal. No. Bitterness curled his stomach.

'And how does this concern me? The world can _rot_ as it pleased' he gritted the words like stones between his teeth. What would be the point? 'Haven't you heard? I've paved my way to hell' he spat. There was no reason to care. His fate was sealed. There was no road to salvation, not for him. He was damned.

Balthazar abrupt laugh jerked John from his antipathy. Fingers constraint, longed to pull the trigger and watch that face dissolve under liquid fire 'What are you laughing at?' the threat, drenched in venom. John's stature at the edge of violence.

'You're lying'

'Would I lie?' John tilted his head, tauntingly. Would he indeed? 'Should I reiterate that? Why should I care if your status is being uprooted by the real demons' Death flashed crossed his dark eyes. Dark, malevolent and treacherous, the acidic ominous taste of... John bitter glance made the grey-eyed spokesman shift, breaching the unruffled composure of the elderly. As if John had not known. Half-breeds, disgust rolled in the undertone of that thought. Would Mammon be content with such pathetic being's when he could have the real army ? John wouldn't. He would want Lu's soldiers on that battlefield, no, the sensation fluttered his stomach- it would be a massacre. All blood and gore-

'Please Johnny-boy. Don't deny it' Balthazar's confident smirk was slicked back on his face, unheeding the threat that was now posed upon his head. 'Why else would you follow this little hook bait not just blow my head off in the elevator...you care. Far more than you are given reason to. It's your weakness' it was a drawled hiss. John inclined an eyebrow, was it now? Pesky annoyance- he mulled the thought. That were hardly any consequence. Nothing that could not be resolved through pleasant distraction...the half-demon, John note, was midly entertaining. Maybe he should keep that one alive. The rest would be redundant. 'Yes, insignificant, aren't they.' Balthazar continued 'So easily broken-'his eyes flickered to Chas. 'So defenceless against temptation-'

John chuckled darkly 'Careful half-breed, your blood is runs red as theirs' Balthazar faltered. 'And I know that the screams are just as effective' Oh yes, he heard. In hell. When demons got bored, half-breeds were not immune.

'Constantine'

'Hmm? Are you afraid?' John lowered the gun, stroked the barrel absently before regarding the half-breed. Balthazar was transfixed upon the floor. Treason was not a light thing in hell, Lucifer was not known for being merciful. That unease, it amused him- 'I know what you want. Too inconsequential to raise the pitchfork to Mammon's throat. You want me to do it.' John flickered his lighter and drew another cigarette, yesss, the poison seeped into his lungs was hell. They wanted a crusader, someone to take the fall, the blame when they all crumbled to hell. He could feel the slow decay of blood cells, perishing in his lungs He breathed it deep.

'We want you to lead us,' the director interjected, John flicked the ashes 'Your status is on par of that of Mammon. With you there would be a resistance' the earnestness was sickening, desperation that bordered panic. The boardroom was a alight with strain, he could see the anticipation, the expectation lined within the masks that hid these demons from the eyes of humanity.


	6. Chapter 6

Apologies if you get bored-summary at the end.

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><p>'<em>-lead us-' <em>The words...the implications-

War.

Blood.

Anguish.

The words that echoed, that thrilled his edged nerves in the possibilitiessss...of the notion, the forces at his whim, the strength, the potential. It would be inglorious and wretchedness, ignorance and complete annihilation, **des**truction. It would be his. All bitterness repaid, all regret diminished, crumbled and shattered with his hope. He would use them. His blood rushed to greet the excitement, the hot spike of heady dominance. The gush of musky air and heat swirled, uplifted -

Pathetic through they were. Half-breeds.

And the thought disgusted him. John swept an indifferent eye over the assembled. Gathered here, some of most influential to have walked this last century in Los Angeles, centuries of experience, of preparation and they were begging for John to take the reins, to _lead them-_ a human. It was pitiable. A cold glint flashed in his dark eyes. They had softened, John had known, tamed by humanity to domestic businessman. Greed driven actions opposed to gut-killer instinct. Mutts to muzzled dogs. Worthless through they were. The sheer mass that would be united underneath him upon this plane, it would be glorious. Incredulous. He tipped the ashes onto the floor. The hush gripped every half-breeds tongue. Quiet, he liked that. It was chaos within him. Emotions spilling, roaring, confusion... all ruined. All tipping down like towers that upheld his sanity.

A half-breed flinched, his fingers tugging his tie, chocking. John quirked an eyebrow. The half-demon fell on the floor. Essence cold. Departed. As fragile as their masks led to deceive. John snorted and sucked a lazy gulp of smoke. Disgusting-all hidden, afraid, scurrying amongst humans as if they were the ones being hunted. Perhaps they were, perhaps John was doing the hunting. Oh, how engaging would that be? Yes, that would prove to be more worthwhile. And they feared him. What more could a hunter ask? And the blood that would follow-

'...John?'

-shed like poisoned ink in fountains. Glorious. Yes, but he would not find Mammon here. Mammon would not waste his time here. Half-breeds. No, John would open a portal. Full-blooded beasts at his command-but that would be difficult. Take time, he was bidding his time. He should have reined in the half-breeds, it would be difficult to launch a invasion if you didn't have a foothold. If the natives resented your presence. Mammon had been cocky, expected from the devil spawn, and now the half-breeds... offering _him_ , traitorously a deal. Balthazar stepped an inched back, John turned to regard him, dark eyes flickered in contemplation. Contacting Eric now would be worthless. Yes, he was probably dead as well. Demons were not supposed to trade information for immunity. Daft half-breed. Did he believe that he would survive _him_? Or those years of mutual exchange would spare him-

'John?'

-John? It sounded familiar. He blinked. Eyes studying the strained gasps, the furious heart beat stolen from humanity that raged under cool sheen facades and expansive suits. The cigarette smoke and ash blurring his eyes, blurring his mind in...weightlessness. A known weight, something he had known. But it was gone, unburdened. Memories...

'John!'

Memories that no longer threatened to engulf him, torment him. Yet it was there. Skittering on the edge of insanity and release, focused and sharp, blurring with the smoke and ash of memories. Skilttering like a beckoning aroma, seducing him, tempting him in aching blood. In the back of his mind, bitter and undiluted with time... and he couldn't find himself regretting its presence. It was addictive. It ran in his blood. Darkness and fire that reflected the glinting silver of knifes, ashes that were flesh, the scent of rot in the air. The screams... and the screams, they lifted you in the air. It was stunning.

... it was appeasing .To hear the screams of a child.

'John! John! Hear me-'

Why had he been so sad then? The lingering hurt that stained these recollections. Why had it tormented him to hear that child cry as the knife cut into her, slowly, delicately. Did she not she what that she was, that her torture was enthralling? Her pain seductive? That she was enchanting to the the grinning mask of a soldier demon. The fascination of unravelling one of God's creation. 'Or did she not know that her body was a temple of the Holy Spirit within? Her flesh not her own'. ...Why had he wept for her? Why had he screamed when they cut him, he had watched, but he had watched. With horror, yes, as they drew his liver and cut the blade deep into his lungs. All warm, red, burning and fast beating heart-He wanted it. John's fingers twitched, he needed it more than any past heroin hit. He craved it.

'John. Draw near...**John**...'

John. It was a single syllable.

'There is no condemnation , **John** , for those who belong to Christ. No fear, no doubt, no sorrow...listen...**John**...relinquish all your fears, your cares...'

- one that constantly dropped from a familiar voice. One that dogged his heels like an errant hellhound, irksome but constant in his never ending pursuit of atonement. But it was the terror that ran undertone the voice; the quivering uncertainty, the desperate calling for reassurance. Of a child. It didn't disgust him. And he had forgotten why.

'...**John**!'

He had forgotten why.

'...**Come you who are weary and burdened, and you will find rest in your weary soul and oblivion in restless heart...**'

John recoiled, 'No,' lies...There was no rest, no rest in life and none after death. Not with his stained soul-

'**For it is you that was chosen by our Father, by his word and his love. '**

Lies...

'**Thus come forth to do his bidding, for it was you that was chosen, holy child and beloved son.'**

...Liesssssss

'**And whatever you do in word or deed, know you do so with blessing of your Lord.'**

Liar. It was you who had abandoned me. The oil dripped memories cling and clogged his mind, remembrance and fear, and pain, and suffering, and regret...

'**And know what sin and grievance you had commit, you do so with the love of your Father .And know, that it is you- '**

'QUIET!' And he had quiet, quiet that accompanied the silence after a single gunshot around him. But there was no silence. Why was it not quiet?

'-**John**?' Finger squeezed the trigger, no hesitation, there was no thought, no...Anything. Just the want; the desperation to eliminate the voice. That cursed voice. With the familiar know of fondness. He knew that voice. Did he?

'**John'** He blinked down at the kid that clutched his shirt in panic and fear. Brown chocolate eyes; eyes that had been shattered of all illusion, of all hope and faith -in his thrice damned books. And the fading light of bright inquisitive eyes, smothered in its death. Broken fibula ,coccyx, ribs-blood, fluid and undiluted pain in every word he spoke thereafter. He had died. Just a kid and so goddamn stubborn. He shouldn't have, shouln't have let him...John curled his fingers and tucked the brown curl that had obscured his view, brashly with a should have protected him and no amount of lies or avoidance would rid him of that guilt. No amount of human warmth, of fingers gripping desperately, frantic breath against his cheek, panicked-

'**John**! Please, don't leave me. I don't want to **die**!' Die? Wasn't he dead? Yessss, he is dead, he died, dead. Rotting. Why was he smiling? Fingers traced his own lips absently, eyes tracing the shell of fragile ears framed in upset curls, no, it was a grin, a crazed smirk. Then why was his soul aching? Warm fingers relinquished their grip, releasing him. John frowned into blank brown eyes .No! I don't want to lose him, not again! Not after them. I want-

I want redemption.

John mind unexpectedly focused upon the half-demons that surrounded him. Him and his foolish apprentice. Not that he hadn't been aware of their rather repulsive presences, but he had dismissed them involuntarily as a non-threat to him and Chas. Which was ridicules in the very notion. His foolish apprentice appeared to agree and was hiding childishly from sight in his only clean white shirt. Rubbing snot all over it, John grimaced. The fact that John had pressed his gun under a fragile chin and his own fingers gripped the kid's biceps equally hard if not crushing him closer-he would deal with later. It was the tense half-demons that were eyeing Chas in anticipation and him in equal wariness that had his fingers twitching and his blood roaring.

'That boy died.' John head jerked to the owner of that voice. Balthazar oddly had neither the smirk nor the mocking quality that had defined his persona. 'He's dead-' John's gun hardly flickered in motion before it was pointed steadily at the other's head.

'What are you talking about.' John had reined in his rage barely, through the words still hissed between his teeth like molten. He ignored his heart's mis-beat, he ignored Chas's fingers tightening around his mid-drift, he ignored the silence that oppressed him. It was a sentence, not a question. He ignored reason; he was avoiding a lot of things. Balthazar did not falter, nor did he tense at the bullet that threatened to puncher him full of holy water.

'All we want is you to lead us. The advantages of that position would make it more than worthwhile.' Balthazar intoned, almost reasonably. The flicker of darkness coiled his stomach. _Lead_ _us_. John's eyes flickered to the edged and grim half-demons. All who now stood on their feet, suits creased in readiness and legs coiled in poised violence. _Lead ussss..._

'Is that so?' he muttered. His fingers itched for a cigarette -but all his found was Chas at hand. And he twitched in irritation and indecision; he did not want any more unwanted fluids on his newly washed shirt either.

'But you won't take the deal.' Balthazar stated. John's eyes narrowed.

'No' the entire room rumbled in discontent at simple refusal. John could see from the corner of his eyes, strained fangs gashing on human molars, the slight discolouration that hinted something unholy beneath human flesh, eyes that were blown wide in black, unnatural, inhuman. Something that did not belong.

'Fair enough.' and the glib that honed it was false to even the owner 'But you must realise. While you are an honoured guest and thereby free to leave as you see fit. That boy has paid us a great discourtesy; we cannot let the human leave until there is reparations,' Balthazar did not flicker from John's eyes, and he could see the conviction and the threat that belied those words.

'Bullshit' John hissed. As if he would trade his life for Chas's. He would take the whole legend of half-demons if he could get his idiotic apprentice out. And he could.

'I see.' Balthazar half-tilted his head. 'Then our negotiations have broken down'

'Had you any doubt, unholy one' It was Chas who spoke, brown eyes that sparked defiant, furious and righteous. Fingers unwound from his death grip till it was John that was holding him back from the mass of half-demons that threatened to tear his flimsy limbs from his frail corpse. Courage that pounded through this undersized structure of human bones and uncertainty. And despite the utter crap that the kid uttered-damn was John proud. Yeah, John nodded to himself, the boy had potential. He held every demons black eye like an errant hellhound. Unfortunately, Balthazar and the hoard of assholes behind him, did not share this sentiment.

As underlined when in the split second that all chaos reigned after this proclamation. John had shot three before they had launched from their balls of their feet, another in the head-exploded in a demon ash and human blood. Glass had shattered from one of the building and the alarm was ringing in full blare, masking the sound of gunshots. Chas had finally realised the severity of his position, yet to John's irritation as he shoved the kid away, the boy's first instinct was not to back away as a sane human but to rummage through John's pockets. John firmly untangled himself with the unruly child and thrust the kid behind him as a half-demon propelled himself at the kid. This was not the time for a cigarette but god did John crave it. John shot two more with a speed that was only restricted by the mechanics of the trigger, the force of the gun securely under his arm, they were circling him. Trying to get to the kid, John grasped – worthless damn tattoo.

John made a split decision that could not have been more than a fraction of a second; if it had than perhaps logic would have intervened and stated that -no. No. Chas was human and therefore- realistically unlikely to survive being thrown out the window of a 1047 foot building without immediate death. It was after that second passed that John, after shooting a persistent half-breed, he realised this himself and another second before he had already lunched after the kid in mid air, that he realised that he too was human and liable to die. Through this did not restrain him from shooting a blind final shot with the words 'Do not follow' growled in a insane notion that perhaps the half-breeds would be able hear and be able to comprehend or abide with John's request that was bordering insanity. And he hadn't even been able to deport Balthazar.

The air was cold, wind rushed through his ears in weightless gravity that descended them closer to the concrete pavement. Ah shit. John did not want to see hell 500 years too early, and the kid did not need to framed under heaven's finicky lens as compliance of John Constantine and fellow suicide. John hissed as his ears rung under the pressure of force, twisted his arms and yanked the kid towards him. Securing him under his arm and bent his legs to absorb as much force into his bones. There was no doubt that John would die-again. But Chas had a sliver of hope. Maybe he could escape brain damaged or contained in a hospital bed for the rest of his life, in a coma or something. John muscles tightened under the burden of Chas's form, slight and unknowing. Than perhaps the kid would rethink his options and actually get a damn education. He didn't need this, this...he deserved more. The impact shocked John's system and he grunted as the full force of the collision snapped his consciousness.

* * *

><p>'John! John! Come on man –we have to go. John!' John blinked the dust and grit out of eyes, pissed. His hand caught the cubby hand that had deemed it acceptable to slap him into consciousness, and squeezed. The other hand gripped his collar, briefly checking his pulse and pathetically heaved him as if to bid him into motion.<p>

'What!' he snapped

'John! Hurry up! We need to get out of here-' Chas's voice had ended in a screech, his eyes flickered frantically around him at the gathering crowd-half-demons. John noted, as he groaned at the ache in his muscles. He swept his hand over his forehead and squinted against the bright sky. God-was he drunk. Eyes focused, no-it appeared that he had, John swiftly gained his foot and examined the ruin under him, jumped out the window after a senseless apprentice and survived. Judging by the pavement crate that he now stood in, his bones were not the ones that absorbed the impact. Shit. John grabbed a befuddled kid and hastily moved out the miniature whilst drawing his gun and pointing it firmly on the immediate half-demon that stood between him and his path. Chas half-heartedly protested until John shook the limp body of any defiance.

It was a grim journey. They had fled, albeit unhurried but confidently into the streets of Los Angeles where John had paused briefly to hoist his holy gun back under his slink, tattered coat and briefly check Chas over under an indifferent eye. He had taken the knuckleduster that Chas had stole in the boarding-room, knuckles bloody at the impact of the fall. They had caught the tube back; or rather they stole into the tube with John glaring a warning black eye at anyone who dared glance his way. John had eventually smoking the other passengers out of near vicinity-utterly irate and craving alcohol Chas had guessed. So it was completely a dim-witted and death inducing question that Chas finally cracked.

'Were you in the elevator?' Chas studied his grimy finger nails, his left hand wrapped over the other, on top of the piece of cloth that John had produced back on the streets. His back felt stiff and bruised on the flat seat that was presumed to be for public comfort. Chas lifted his eyes after a period of silence and studied the graffiti across him, the nose of the tracks thumping a familiar beat. Yeah, John had been there. He had known that Chas would have disobeyed him, hell that's probably why he took him. As a distraction- cos he hell wasn't needed to drive. Stupid idiot-of course he was a distraction, John didn't need him for anything else. He was a liability. Anyway-he-he wasn't there to learn the craft of the exorcist. That was some other guys dream, he had a job- a mission -it wasn't fair! Chas felt the prick in his chest and fought to breathe steadily and at ease as previous. So he wasn't up to scratch, he knew that-he -Chas breathed in through his nose and rubbed his eyes as discreetly as he could. He hated these tangible sensation, it confused him. He didn't want it. He didn't want to feel the front force of his desires, his human want, to prove that he was worthwhile to John. To The John Constantine- he heard the exasperated sigh before he felt the hand thread through his sculpt-

'You did good kid' Chas jerked, embarrassed and humiliated but he remained still for a moment or two, drawing warmth and gruff kindness that soaked through that broad hand. Before tugging away-

'Yeah, you didn't to so bad either...for an old man,' Chas grinned, cheekily tugging his brown curls where his cab hat would have sat. John didn't bother to reply, but a single glance stated all too well how unimpressed he was of that remark. The smoke that gathered around him stung Chas's eyes, but he it didn't stop that light feeling in his stomach all the way back to John's apartment. And it didn't stop Chas's smile.

* * *

><p>John loses himself in memoriesinsanity. Chas uses power of love/God. Jump of building go on train. Hope you enjoyed. Now I know that at least 15-20 people are reading this-so please do review. I really do appreicate feed back, is it too long/short ? too descriptive? too ambigious? too pointless? Who would you like to hook up with who? Baring in mind this does have a plot...

Bye~


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